


Glimpses: Unabridged

by consoledacup



Series: Glimpses [5]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-07-29 03:04:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 45
Words: 48,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7667776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/consoledacup/pseuds/consoledacup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A continuation of my missing moments of seasons 1-3 collection with written deleted scenes, extended scenes, character reflections, etc. posted at random and generally by request.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. This Will Go On All Night

When Mack was first exposed to FitzSimmons a year and a half ago, he detected a strained relationship to say the least. The tension and awkward silences and drama and bickering were enough to send him over the edge.

He liked Fitz right away. Fitz was still recovering from brain trauma and talked to himself all the freaking time, but he was blunt and forward and a _genius_ , and Mack had no problem getting used to his quirks. They were a good team. They both shared an affinity for mechanics, they were direct with each other. Fitz helped him strengthen his craft, and Mack helped Fitz with his physical limitations and confidence until it was unneeded.

He didn’t necessarily have the same feeling about Jemma. According to Fitz, well, to put it mildly, she sounded like a _bitch_. Fitz didn’t paint her that way, by any means, but for her to have left him when he needed her all because Fitz told her how he felt? That was _cold_.

And also very _false._ Because it only took a couple of conversations with Jemma to know that she was hurting as much as Fitz was. And most likely had feelings for him to boot.

Fast-forward to the present, and there was still a tension between them. Only this time, it was a much different kind of tension.

So when Coulson informed him that he’d be accompanying FitzSimmons to Bucharest as back-up while they took point, he merely sighed.

But he would do anything to get Daisy back. So he suited up without a word.

-

They arrived at the point of destination without a hitch, setting up camp in a Bucharest hotel room, and FitzSimmons debriefed him about what to expect for the evening.

And apparently mentioning lab coats to a pair of - _scientists_ \- wasn’t the smartest move.

Jemma confiscated the hotel bathroom to clean herself up and dress the part while Fitz got ready in the bedroom.

When Jemma stepped out in her leather pants and red blazer, looking pretty with her hair and makeup done, Mack had to nudge Fitz to stop standing there, staring at her like an idiot.

Jemma smiled shyly. “That’s a smart look, Fitz. I like the suit.”

They were Hunter and Bobbi 2.0.

It was going to be a long night.

-

He stayed back in the hotel room, seeing everything through Fitz’s glasses.

There were people heavily enhanced everywhere FitzSimmons turned. And when they walked up to Anon, introducing themselves, the spectral imaging revealed just how surgically improved she was.

 _Damn_.

She told them to wait while she consulted with Dr. Radcliffe, so they went to the bar, each ordering a drink. They found a place to sit in the lounge.

And then didn’t speak.

For fifteen minutes at least.

All he saw through Fitz’s glasses was shot after shot of Jemma when she wasn’t looking.

They _really_ needed to get their act together, because he had had enough -

“Mack? Are you getting feedback on comms? Simmons, you hear that?”

 _Oh,_ hell _no._ They really were Hunter and -

“Oh yeah, it’s terribly loud. Probably best if we go offline and reboot.”

_Oh, come on. Reboot my ass._

“Looks fine on my end.”

“Back in a jiff,” Simmons hurriedly replied.

“Guys? _Guys?”_

There was no response.

-

“You should tell that to Fitz. He thinks we’re cursed, which I know is ridiculous, but I don’t know..”

Mack stared at her for a minute. Did she just admit -

He decided to shoot straight with her.

“So how long have you two...?” He gave her a pointed look, and she waved him off.

“Oh, no - no, we’ve - it’s not -”

_Really?_

He reminded her of their very “clever” comms trick, and she smiled, sheepishly.

“Right. Well, I - I don’t know. I - I suppose it’s very new.”

She looked vulnerable. Cautiously excited.

Hopeful.

And if he didn’t know her as well as he did, and if he didn’t know Fitz as well as he did, he would’ve taken her words at face value.

“No, it isn’t,” Mack responded kindly.

Of course it wasn’t brand new. FitzSimmons were _years_ in the making. There was even a pool going on at the base about them.

“No. I suppose not.”

Mack smiled. “Hey. If there’s anybody on this planet that deserve happiness, it’s you two.”

And it was the truth. He had witnessed both of them making incredible, life-threatening sacrifices for the other. He had witnessed them experience so much sorrow. So much heartbreak.

“Thank you, Mack,” Jemma said touched. She went on to begin defending their reasoning for going off comms, claiming that things were completely innocent. 

And for the first time in a while, he started laughing. Everything with Daisy and the team had him pretty down, so it was nice to laugh about something else. It felt good to laugh about something else.

_Was she serious, right -_

“We were - we were merely _talking_ \- not what - not - not - _that_.”

“And I suppose you were only talking about how to better seduce Holden Radcliffe with science,” Mack smirked.

He could see Jemma blush, and while he was pretty amused, he decided to throw her a bone.

“Okay. I’m going to back to the quinjet - see what all I can unload for us as we contemplate our next move. You good to stay here and wait for Fitz?”

He almost started laughing again at her strong affirmative. “Yes, of course.”

“Good.”

And then -

He knew what he had to do. If this was his chance to nudge those two knuckleheads further in the right direction, and if this was his chance to help get rid of that _tension_ once and for all - _well_.

_It was a far, far better thing that he do than he has ever done._

He left his key on the desk.

“Mack you forgot your -”

“No, I didn’t.” He shrugged her off, ignoring her confusion, and walked out of the hotel room.

And geared himself up for an uncomfortable night in the quinjet.

-

After spending his night tossing and turning on one of the thin cots stored in the quinjet, he finally managed to get a decent four hours of sleep. Which actually wasn’t that bad for a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.

Still. It was time to contact the lovebirds and get the hell out of Bucharest.

_“Hi, Mack.”_

_Yup. Jemma definitely sounded a lot more relaxed and -_

He shuddered.

“Simmons, we’re leaving in thirty. Both of you need to put some clothes on, pack up, and meet me here by then.”

_“I’m quite offended by your assumption, Mack.”_

She was so full of it.

“Is any of it untrue?”

Her sigh told her everything he needed to know, and he started laughing. Heartily.

He was still bent over, unable to stop snickering,  as he heard Fitz’s muffled voice and Jemma respond with a “talk to him then” - and then -  

_“I don’t appreciate your - would you stop laughing for just a minute?”_

“Sorry, buddy,” he managed to vocalize. “But seriously, how was it?”

Fitz sounded scandalized. _“That’s really none of your -”_

“That bad, huh?” Mack knew he was winding him up, but _come on_ , he just spend the night on a thin cot so his two close friends could finally _get_ some, so he was due for some amusement.

_“More like bloody brilliant, but that’s not - I mean, that’s - that’s...”_

“Hey. Even though my stiff neck would beg to differ after a night on a quinjet cot, you know I’m happy for you two, right?”

_“Yeah. Yeah, I do, Mack.”_

“And everyone else on base will also be happy when I tell them.”

 _“What?!”_ Fitz shrieked. _“Don’t you even go there. I’m serious, Mack, if you -”_

“Just messing with you, Turbo.”

_“I don’t find that very funny at all.”  
_

“Seriously, though. Clock’s ticking. Get yourselves presentable, and get a move on.”

_“Yeah, copy that, Mack.”_

He ended the call and started prepping the quinjet for takeoff, preparing himself for an interesting ride back.

-

They showed up sixteen minutes late, looking sheepish and a little unkempt - he did _not_ want to think about why - and he only sighed.

And as each debriefed each other about their respective evenings, he saw Fitz reach for Jemma’s hand, and he smiled to himself.

With everything going wrong with Daisy and Hive, it was nice these two found happiness in each other.

He almost wished Ele -

He shook his head, trying to rid himself of that thought.

They had _enough_ drama to deal with at the moment.

-

Read the other perspectives of that one night in Bucharest by checking out **[As We Deviate from That Path](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6950593/chapters/17340403)**  (Jemma's perspective) and [**Change Becomes Exponential** ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7667776/chapters/17482855)(Fitz's perspective). 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was requested by AchillesMonkey, PeggyLeggy, and raptorlindsay who all requested to hear Mack's POV during that one night in Bucharest. Unsung hero, that man. :p


	2. Change Becomes Exponential

_“’Cause the last thing I want is for things to change.”_

_“You know how I can be. I hate change.”  
_

_“Like I was your friend, and then I changed. How did you handle that?”_

_“Because you want to change her. Is that it?”  
_

_“Cause of what happened to Skye. How we both changed. Well, you know what the scariest change is, Jemma? It’s you.”  
_

**_Change._ **

It was a word Fitz was far more familiar with than desired. It was a scary word. A terrifying word. But if these past three years had taught him anything, it was also a liberating word. A word full of possibilities. A word full of _hope_. 

 _Still_. It was quite frightening to think of the changes that would ensue as he and Jemma progressed with their relationship.

As he and Jemma progressed _physically_ with their relationship. 

So he relayed his hesitation to her about it, figuring out what they both needed to do to take the next step together. 

She had readily agreed. 

He was about to kiss her, mesmerized by her searching eyes and red lips, but Radcliffe’s assistant interrupted them, and he focused back on their mission at hand.

-

_**No.** _

_Jemma!_

He knew she could take care of herself, but it ripped him apart to see her being dragged off by a burly man, as she frantically called out for him. 

He desperately wanted to go after her, but this was their last shot to save Daisy, so he fought against the bodyguard, and was direct with Radcliffe. 

He thought he was potentially getting somewhere when Daisy intruded, threatening his life and threatening Jemma’s life and threatening the rest of the team, all while choking him with her powers. 

_If you love her..._

Of course he did. 

Which is why after Daisy finally released him, he tore through the establishment, searching for Jemma. 

-

He stumbled upon a bloody skeleton in the hallway. 

 _Hive_. 

He started running faster, searching for her. He’d be _damned_ if the universe was trying to tear them apart again.

He wouldn’t let it happen.

-

And when he saw her in the hotel room, he didn’t care that she seemed exasperated or frustrated or whatever else she was with him. 

She was _alive_. She was _safe._

He could breathe again. Or maybe - maybe he _couldn’t -_ for an entirely - entirely different reason.

She was just standing there, watching his every move. His heart started beating more quickly, their earlier conversation playing in his head. 

**_And just do. Yes. Of course._ **

He let the duffle bag slide off his shoulder. He tossed his hotel key on the bag and slowly advanced towards her. 

**_And just do._ **

“Well. We’ve got a lot to talk about.” 

And they did. But it was rather difficult to make coherent thought about anything with her staring at him like that. 

**_Just do._ **

He didn’t know who made the first move. All he knew was - all he could feel was her icy hand trailing down his neck, both of them moaning simultaneously as their lips met. 

He vaguely registered her fingers grip the label of his sports jacket, and the moment they dove in for another kiss, she started to slide his jacket off his shoulders. 

**_Do._ **

Fitz stopped thinking then. He took the lead, ridding himself of the jacket, letting it fall carelessly to the floor, as she swiftly removed her own blazer. 

He refused to stop kissing her all the while. 

He felt her fingers at his abdomen, yanking his shirt from his trousers, as his tongue begged for entrance in her willing mouth. 

He gripped her waist tightly, her breathing as ragged and shallow as hers, and her little moans and gasps were driving him over the edge. 

She was _far_ too distracted with undressing him when all he wanted was - 

She was just - 

Her _lips_ were so - 

He pulled her in for another kiss, and her cold hands held his face, and everything was happening so fast and frantic - 

He gripped her hands, bringing them to his chest. 

He rested his forehead against hers, and just reveled in being so close to her. Drinking in the moment. 

It was a moment of pure bliss. Absolute peace. 

“Jemma,” he whispered hoarsely, savoring her name on his lips. 

And she answered him, softly. Tenderly.

Contently. 

He threw a bit of playfulness in the heady moment. Hoping to remind her that it was - it was just _him -_ it was just _them -_ it was _always_ them. 

“Your hands are freezing.” 

She giggled from his statement, clearly not expecting that that was where the conversation was headed. 

“Are they?” Her eyes were wet, and if he stared too much at her, his eyes were going to be wet too, and that just wouldn’t _do_ , because they were supposed to stop thinking, so he held her wrists gently as she brought her hands to her face, poking fun at her chilly hands. 

He lifted her hands to his lips, breathing into them, warming them up. 

She tilted her head, teasing him. “Do you think you can brave it?” Her question came out in barely more than a pant, and he knew she wasn’t just talking about her hands on him, and he searched her teary eyes again. 

He readily welcomed the change that they were about to embark on together. 

And he told her as such. “I’ll do my best to power through.” 

He sought out her lips once more, and he grabbed her once more, and they moved together, kissing until he felt her bump into the foot of the bed. 

They fell together, him hovering over her. Kissing her. His arms supporting him. 

They broke from the kiss, openmouthed, breaths mingling a moment before their lips fused together again. 

He felt their weight shift, and then there she was. 

Straddling him. Eyeing him sexily. She was just so - 

_Turned on._

As was he. 

It was evident how much she wanted him, and it was evident how much he wanted her, and they were - 

He kept trying to kiss every part of her he could reach - her lips, her nose, her cheek, her chin, her arm - as she got to work, loosening his tie. 

She kept trying to yank it off him, not realizing that the tie was caught under his nose, and he gave a small _yelp_ , because - 

It kind of hurt. 

He chuckled at her horrified expression and hasty apology, and undid the tie himself. 

“Geez, Simmons. If I had known you were this eager, I would’ve -”

“That’s quite a statement coming from someone -” He took advantage of their bickering, covering her lips with his, muffling her words and then - her _moan_  -and flipping them over. 

He gently broke from the kiss, his lips trailing from the corner of her mouth to her neck. He bit it playfully before steadily kissing the spot.

She leaned closer into him, allowing him more access, and he grinned into her neck. 

It was funny. He could quite clearly see the effect he had on her, and the more she lost control, the more confident with her - with _them_ - he felt. 

He kept kissing her neck, then her jaw, until his lips found her earlobe, and he could feel her shudder as he murmured, “You were saying?” 

Her only response was a moan. 

He felt her hands on him, trying to undo the buttons of his shirt, but she was so clearly - 

An even bigger surge of confidence hit him, and he grabbed one of her hands, pressing an openmouthed kiss on her palm, his eyes locked with hers. 

Her eyes that were currently almost completely black with want and need. 

 _God_ , he wanted her.

“Seem a bit unfocused,” Fitz grinned teasingly. “Best i do it.” He sat back on the bed, unbuttoning his shirt one-by-one, trying to hide his shaking fingers. He gazed at her the entire time, and she stared right back, neither breaking eye contact. 

He was startled when Jemma suddenly sat up, slipping her arms into his open shirt and pulled him towards her for a heated kiss. 

She wasn’t the only one losing focus. 

He wanted to - 

He _needed_ - 

He halted their feverish exchange. And placing a loose strand of hair behind her ear, he silently asked permission to - 

He exhaled deeply when she nodded, reaching behind her, refusing to break eye contact with him as she slid her zipper down, biting her lip.

The action drove him _mad_.

She hurriedly reached for the hem of her top, and he focused hard enough to stop her hands, cursing his voice for cracking in the heady moment. 

“Let me.” 

She didn’t seem to mind. She merely nodded.

He slowly slid her top up her torso, and her arms raised almost automatically as he lifted the shirt over her head. 

Until he didn’t, because the zipper got caught in her hair, and she uttered a small “ow” and he hastily untangled her from the offending garment, kissing her the spot where the zipper had pulled her hair, and bringing her head to his bare chest. 

He apologized sheepishly, and she giggled. She sat back again, and all he could do was simply - simply _stare_ at her. 

Because there she was - the love of his life - sitting before him on a hotel bed in Bucharest in only a bra, and how long had he - 

How long he had he imagined seeing her like this - despite his fruitless attempts to fight those thoughts. 

It was - and _she_ was - 

“You’re beautiful,” he only breathed. 

She smiled shyly, and what the _hell_ did she have to be shy about with her perfect body and freckled skin and creamy complexion and - 

He wanted - 

He wanted _more._

He encircled her in his arms, reaching for her bra clasp, and those things really needed to be improved with easier access, because _really_  it should not have taken him five tries to - 

“Who’s the unfocused one now, Dr. Fitz?” Her lips were currently doing glorious things to his neck, and her tone was so sexy and teasing and playful that he couldn’t even conjure up a response.

Her bra finally unclasped, and he slid the straps of it off her shoulders and down her arms. 

And there they were. 

In all their glory.

Jemma Simmons’s amazing, stunning, incredible, _magnificent_ breasts.

He leaned forward, exploring the spot between them with his lips, until he felt his hair being yanked roughly and her lips captured his in a mind-blowing, searing kiss. 

He pulled her closer to him, and they continued kissing, and he moaned into her lips, because her bare breasts on his bare chest were just - 

There wasn’t a single word to describe the absolute pleasure of the contact, and he’d be damned to even try. 

She slid his shirt down his shoulders, and her hands upon him, feeling, touching, _exploring_ , were making him - 

At the same time that he reached for the button of her leather pants, she gripped his belt buckle, and they had to pause their lustful actions, and chuckle a bit, glancing at each other. 

He was getting more and more nervous with each kiss and touch, and he could tell she was too, and - 

“I can’t think of - It’s probably a better idea we -” Jemma gestured in a way he understood, and he nodded in agreement. 

“Yeah, good point.” They untangled themselves from one another, each working on their own bottoms until they were kneeling, facing each other in only her knickers and his briefs. 

**_Just -_ **

It suddenly dawned on him, and he could feel his ears turning red as he asked, “Do we need any sort of -”

The rapid shake of her head cut him off, and he exhaled in relief.

**_Just - just do._ **

“So this is - this is -” 

_Nope._

They weren’t going to overthink this one. He dove forward, pressing his lips to hers, and held her firmly in his arms as he laid them both down on the bed.

“No. more. thinking,” he whispered to her - and to him as well, if he was being completely honest - and punctuated each word with a kiss.

**_Do._ **

And he did. 

He removed her knickers, and she removed his briefs, and they - and they - and they - 

And she - _she -_

_And they -_

_THEY._

_THEY._

_THEY._

He was moaning and sighing and gasping, and she was moaning and sighing and gasping, and it was - 

They were united. Body and soul. He couldn’t stop kissing her, and he reached her hands that were thrown over her head, threading their fingers together. 

And they remained that way until they hit the peak of their pleasure, his name wantonly on her lips as they both reached the edge together. 

-

He was the first to awaken.

He felt so incredibly comfortable, his arm resting heavy on _Jem_ -

His eyes flew open as last night’s activities registered, and his heart leapt as her sleeping face came into focus. 

Last night was - 

He just -

She was - she was _\- exquisite._

He couldn’t get over her gorgeous body or freckled skin or creamy complexion, and if last night had told him anything, he didn’t think that was ever going to be a problem. 

They had spent the night, discovering each other, and it was - 

It was - 

They were - 

_**Perfect.** _

He _knew_ her. He just - he did. Even before their night together, he did. And that - it translated physically, and he - 

And _she_  -

 _God_ , he loved her. He loved her so very, very much. 

And he couldn’t think of anything better than just lying there, drinking her in, basking in his love for her. 

His eyes swept over her sleeping body. There was a stubborn strand of hair covering one eye where it rose and fell with each new breath she took. There was a hint of a smile on her perfect lips, and it reminded him of just how incredibly happy she was with him last night. She looked - 

When he had stayed by her bedside for a couple of nights after rescuing her from Maveth, he was struck by how - how haunted she looked - how worried and frightened and saddened and depressed and out-of-sorts - even in her sleep, he could see her muscles tense, most likely reliving events of trauma during her six month stay at the death planet.

But now? Now she had - she had never looked more at - at _peace_. And it astounded - it just - 

To think that he might’ve been the cause of her - that he had something to do with her - 

It just - 

She made him so, _so_ happy, and it was becoming clear to him that she felt the very same, and it amazed him and strengthened him and elated him and - 

His eyes slowly closed, thoughts of her and - and _them -_ lulling him back to sleep.

-

And then he felt her finger on his cheek, and if that wasn’t the absolute _best_ way to be woken up -

So he sleepily told her so. 

-

Read the other perspectives of that one night in Bucharest. Check out [As We Deviate from that Path](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6950593/chapters/17340403) (Jemma's POV) and [This Will Go on All Night](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7667776/chapters/17461177) (Mack's POV). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was simply a mention by raptorlindsay, and I just ran with it, because reasons. :P


	3. Please. Just Let Me Do This

She’d had experience with acts like Lincoln’s. _More_ than her fair share. 

Which is probably why she was so harsh with Lincoln. _More_ than harsh, if she was being honest. 

She understood that feeling of helplessness - that feel - she _did_. She had to endure several bouts of that at times. When Skye was on her deathbed after Ian Quinn shot her, when Fitz was recovering from his brain injury, when Trip flew down the tunnel leading to his certain death, when Hunter and Bobbi were cut off from the team. She got it. She was more than familiar with it.

But she had also been on the receiving end of these grand - grand _gestures_ \- for more times than she could count, and - it was - 

Did she appreciate everything Fitz did for her? Without a doubt. But she also loved him so much, and she could understand that their connection was just - it was something that Fitz clearly couldn’t give up. She knew that sentiment all to well. 

But seeing this reckless behavior from Lincoln - it was - she was able to step back and examine it from a third party perspective, and - quite frankly - it was moronic at best. 

Was this how Fitz appeared to others? Some lovesick fool beating his head against the wall, fruitlessly attempting to do anything to - 

She didn’t even need to finish the thought. Of _course_ it was. 

And not for the first time, she reflected back on his lovesick fool behavior - this time viewing his acts through Dr. Simmons’s skeptical eye.

He blasted through the doors of her quarantined area to work with her side-by-side, determined to find a cure to save her. He almost _jumped_ out of a plane (with no former sky-diving experiencing to speak of, she’d like to add). He was stubborn and unwavering in his plan of giving her the last of the oxygen - without even pausing to find another alternative. He threw himself in dangerous situations, trying to figure out the monolith (yes, she had heard about his numerous excursions). He confronted the monolith, not knowing what awaited him on the other side (she had also been filled in with that bit too, much to her horror). He _dove through a hole in the universe to save her._ **TWICE**. 

Any onlooker would’ve called Fitz a reckless, pining idiot. And Dr. Simmons was apt to agree. 

Which made it so easy for Dr. Simmons to chastise Lincoln. 

But then. 

When he said those words. Those words - so like Fitz’s own that had been burned into her brain ever since - she could still hear them. Clear as day. They haunted her. They - 

_So please. Let me show you._

Who was she? Who was she to have men willingly sacrifice themselves for her? She was still wrestling with the guilt of what Will did for her - of course Hive had to open  _that_ old wound. 

And she was in constant fear that she would - she was afraid she would _lose_ Fitz one day - from one sacrifice too many - and this stupid antitoxin might not even _work_ \- and is that what they were now? Her and Daisy? 

Damsels in distress that needed to be rescued? Hadn’t they - 

The romance of that was completely and utterly lost on her. She was _sick_ of being the damsel in distress. She was sick of - 

She was sick of all of it. 

But his - she saw his face. 

She saw the face of a man who loved a woman so much that he was willing to do _anything_ to - 

She was very familiar with that look. 

And if this _was_ their last shot at saving Daisy, wasn’t that look worth a bit more than Dr. Simmons’s projections? 

She didn’t know. 

But she allowed Lincoln to follow through with his plan.

Just as she had allowed Fitz to follow through with his plans.

And that - _that_ was a sacrifice all on its own. 

-

Read Fitz’s perspective and a couple of additional scenes of this episode: [Lovesick Fool](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6950593/chapters/17362819)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was requested by AchillesMonkey - or at least mentioned, lol. Regardless, I went for it!


	4. Hole-in-the-Wall Gang

General Glenn Talbot tried to keep an open mind. He really did. Which was saying a lot. Because if there was one thing he couldn’t stand, it was being told to have an open mind. But he’d had enough kerfuffles with Phil to know that not everything was as it seemed. Not everything could be solved through the government and black-and-white procedures. The world was changing as he knew it. His bodyguard Creel was enough living proof of that.

When first encountering Agents Fitz and Simmons in that frigid hellhole, they seemed like a couple of kids playing “Spy”. He was impressed with their unwavering loyalty to Phil, but they were unyielding, stubborn at best. And it made him question their sanity and their true allegiance - especially with Hydra in the mix.

Yet, it was clear to him now that not only were they fighting on the right side - as much he begrudgingly hated to admit, but they were also more than competent to handle the job. He learned the girl - Agent Simmons - had spent six months on that alien planet, surviving the horrors of that Hive. He doubted if some of his trained men could do what she did. And Fitz was responsible for numerous cases of extremely innovative weaponry and machinery so advanced and precise, he’d be a fool to doubt the man’s brilliance.

After divulging to FitzSimmons - _was that really what they were called? Moronic name -_ and Phil that Hive had swiped a warhead, Phil gave them orders - he gave _FitzSimmons_ orders; he’d be _damned_ if Phil ordered him to do _anything_ \- to devise a way to thwart Hive’s plan.

“Damn Bee Man.”

“Bee...” Fitz looked at Talbot questioningly before nodding his head once he saw Talbot’s look. “ _Hive_. Right.”

“This jackass devil has an operational warhead, and we don’t have the clearance to shut it down.”

“ _We_ may not. But - who does?”

Talbot pursed his lips. “We would have to get in contact with General Andaz. Superior know-it-all and pain-in-my-ass. But he’d never -”

Fitz shook his head. “Yeah, we actually don’t need to get him involved at all.”

“What on earth do you - _oh.”_

_“_ Great. I’m glad everyone knows what’s going on. You mind filling me in, Kid Geniuses?”

“We’re actually twenty-eight, but don’t be embarrassed. We get that a lot.” Fitz shrugged.

“Yeah, I’ll bet you do,” Talbot muttered.

Simmons walked over to stand behind Fitz’s chair. They acted like more of a married couple than he and Carla did.

“If we engage General Andaz in conversation on a video feed long enough, we can use motion detectors and a green screen -”

“- to project Andaz’s appearance and voice, so that the person on the other end will be none the wiser,” Fitz finished confidently.

Talbot looked between the two of them. “You’re saying we can get the kill code ourselves, aren’t you? How the _hell_ are we going to -”

“ _Science_.”

Talbot wanted to wipe that smug smile off Fitz’s face.

-

“So let me get this straight. You’re going to impersonate a highly-ranked government official to get the kill code.” Fitz simply nodded in response. “Okay,” Phil sighed. “Let’s get to work.”

“That’s _it_? You don’t even want to know _how_ we’re going to -”

Phil cut Talbot off - much to his annoyance. “I have a strong team, Glenn.”

He left FitzSimmons alone with Talbot again, already meeting with the other field agents to relay the details.

“So, as I was saying, we need to get Andaz on video long enough to where his appearance and voice is picked up by the simulator. Your goal is keep him talking.”

Talbot nodded. “I can do that.”

“Well, while you two work on that, I’m going to go update Daisy. Again.”

Fitz looked up at her. “She still suffering withdrawal symptoms?”

“Enough to make her extremely irritable with me? Yes.”

“Well, you two can braid each other’s hair later. We have bigger fish to fry.”

Talbot didn’t miss the odd look Jemma threw his way. “Yes. That is what we female agents do. Excuse me.”

She walked out of the lab briskly, causing Talbot to lean over to Fitz. “Was it something I said?”

“It _was_ a bit of a misogynist statement.”

“So what’s the deal with you two, anyway?”

“Why?” Fitz smirked. “You interested?”

“Get your head out of your ass. Let’s just figure out what I need to say to Andaz.”

“Right.”

-

Check out Jemma’s POV during this episode by reading [Playing Defense](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6950593/chapters/17385892). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love the prompt idea about giving Talbot and Fitzsimmons more scenes, TashxTARDIS! Hope you enjoyed! :)


	5. Agents of Nothing

“I’m sorry. It’s just - I know I’m being ridiculous, but...” Jemma wiped her eyes, pulling out her badge to stare at it for - apparently - the final time. She knew she was being a bit _dramatic_ about the whole thing, but really - 

“Jemma, we’ve been over this twice now. Just hand over the badge already. Skye’s been waiting.”

“Now hang on, Agent Fitz. This is a difficult -” 

“Oh, I’m well aware it’s difficult, Agent Triplett. Only devoted ten years of my life to this agency. We’re all very aware of how _difficult_ it is.” 

_Why did Fitz have to be so rude all the time to Trip?_ As far as Jemma was concerned, Trip was an upstanding, morally -

“Look,” Skye cut in. “That colonel guy Tilbat or whatever means serious business, and he’s not the only one. Coulson wanted me to scrub away anything and everything about us. It’s for our own protection.”

“I know,” Jemma sniffed. She touched the badge softly. “But Fitz is right. S.H.I.E.L.D. is all I’ve ever...I guess that doesn’t matter now.” She reluctantly handing the badge over to Skye. “Here,” she said softly. 

“Thanks, Jemma. And - um - sorry.” 

“No reason for you to be sorry. Not your fault.” Jemma tried not to be stiff in her reply, but it was - 

S.H.I.E.L.D. was - it no longer existed. And - _now -_ neither did she. It was quite a lot to stomach, and she -

“Do you - is Coulson going to destroy them?” Fitz sounded about as disheartened as she was.

“I don’t know.” Skye sat down on one of the abandoned boxes in the hangar. “This really - I finally get to be part of this team, officially, and then it’s - what even are we now?” 

Trip exhaled heavily. “That’s something I’d like Agent Coulson to explain to us.” 

“Just because your supervising officer turned out to be...” Fitz trailed off when he caught Trips’s expression. “Sorry.” 

Trip gave him a thin smile, merely nodding in response. 

“You don’t - you don’t think we’ll be disbanded, do you?” Jemma asked in a small voice. “I don’t think I could bear it if I was to be separated from all of you or May or Coulson or Ward -” 

“I talked to Ward, actually. They’re still on their way to the Fridge. Said Hand wanted to pick up some Navy jets along the way.” 

Trip let out a low whistle. “Man, will I be glad to hear that son of a bitch is actually locked away for good.” 

“I can only imagine.” Jemma reached out, putting her hand on his shoulder. Trip offered her a grateful smile. 

“Well, is that all you need from us, Skye? Or does Coulson want our baby teeth while he’s at it?” 

“ _Fitz.”_

Jemma withdrew her hand from Trip to turn around and give Fitz a stern look who suddenly looked a bit more cross than before. _Strange_.

Skye eyes flickered from Fitz to Jemma and Trip. “I’ll let you know, I guess.” 

She sighed heavily and then left the the three of them alone, taking their badges with her. 

“You could’ve been nicer, Fitz. Skye was just following orders.” 

“And weren’t you the one - only this morning, I might add - that said, and I quote, ‘aren’t they merely just requests’?” 

“You know I hate when you use that voice. I don’t sound like that.” 

“I don’t know, Agent Simmons. Sounds pretty spot on to me,” Trip gave her a teasing smile, and she giggled. 

Fitz huffed.

She was starting to get rather tired of his childish behavior. 

But she had bigger problems to fuss over. If she wasn’t Dr. Jemma Simmons, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., then who was she _really_?

It scared her to think that she’d have to answer that question. 

They _all_ would have to answer that question. 

And what if the answers they discover put everyone on different paths and different places? 

Her heart was heavy, as she dwelled on that very real, very plausible outcome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was prompted by AchillesMonkey who pays so much attention to detail, it’s crazy. Skye said Simmons got choked up when she asked for her badge. So I wrote the thing. Which morphed into jealous Fitz. Oops. Still hope you enjoyed!


	6. Exit Point

_I am many, and I am few._

_I am numerous, and I am one._

_I am the absolution that the world seeks._

_I am the deliverance from a wicked, spiteful, ignorant, foolish race._

_**I. Am.** _

-

I recognized the face and voice right away. 

How could I not when Jemma frequently watched that recording on her device and stared at the picture when she thought Will wasn’t looking. 

Didn’t notice.

 _He noticed_. 

“You’re Fitz.” 

The man bore an almost frantic, fearful expression. 

It was shocking to see him - _on Maveth_ \- in front of me. 

Will Daniels had thought a lot about what it would be like to actually meet him. Truth be told, Will was envious of Fitz. He knew where Jemma’s heart truly resided. 

And Will  _hated_ that he couldn’t hate him. From what he learned from Jemma, Fitz was a good man. 

A great one. 

Why else would she fall for him - he did everything _right_. 

“Fitz” was Jemma’s favorite word. And even once she became romantic with Will, “Fitz” remained Jemma’s favorite word, regardless of her vocalizing his name aloud or not. 

Will could just sense it. 

So, it was startling for me to see this Fitz staring at me wildly, protecting me from armed men, and informing me that I would be going home. To Earth.

_Earth._

Maybe “Fitz” would be my favorite word too.

-

Perhaps the other men believed that Fitz was a sacrifice to It. 

To _me_. 

How wrong they were. 

They sullied the Hydra name. They were undeserving of any absolution. 

But Fitz - 

Will regarded him as a brilliant scientist. At least according to Jemma. 

Fitz could be a very useful tool indeed. 

-

I could sense Fitz’s pain in walking with me. Believing me to be Will. Believing me to be Jemma’s lover. Believing that the minute he and I returned to Earth, she would run back into my arms. 

How wrong he was. 

Yet. He kept his feelings to himself. 

Mostly.

“You know I ran a dozen scenarios in my head, wondering what would it would be like when we finally met. There’s a lot more blood. And i never considered the smell.” 

Will knew how Jemma felt about Fitz. 

Will would’ve said, “I can see why Jemma loves you.” 

Will had a way of embedding the truth in snark. 

As did Fitz, apparently. 

-

“I’m the only one that can read the data and get us to the extraction point.” 

And there it was. 

Fitz was going to play a vital part in revolutionizing the world. 

My objective remained. 

Keep him in the dark of who I really was. Let him keep thinking he was rescuing Will Daniels for his precious Jemma. 

“Follow my lead.” 

-

_I am weak, and I am powerful._

_I summon the wind and sands of this barren terrain at will._

_I am Maveth, and Maveth is me._

_I am the absolution that the world seeks._

_**I. AM.** _

-

And then Fitz offered his goggles to me, not realizing that I was the one responsible for the sandstorm. 

His action proved that there were still righteous individuals on Earth with the potential to be something great. 

A far better version of themselves. 

I would not soon forget the selfless act. 

-

My purpose was to make the world a better place. Something wonderful. 

Something _magnificent_. 

Killing was necessary, but it was never to be done wastefully. 

I took no pleasure in what I did. The deaths were simply a means to an end. 

The spilled blood would bring me one step closer to my purpose. 

-

“Jemma’s going to be really happy to see you.” 

And there it was again. 

That martyrdom. 

It was admirable. 

The way he cared for her. 

“This must be very difficult for you.” 

“Getting you off this God-forsaken planet is all that matters now.” 

Admirable and foolish.

-

He was asking too many questions.

And Will’s body was getting weaker and weaker. 

He was going to find out the truth. 

I had what i needed. 

Fitz pointed me in the direction of the portal’s location.

 _Still_.

He could’ve been a very powerful ally.

He could’ve been something _great_. 

-

Fitz put up a strong fight. 

It was commendable. 

But he was no match for me. 

Even in Will’s rotting, weakened corpse. 

I raised the boulder above my head, ready to end the battle, lamenting that I would take the life of such a man. 

So much _potential_. 

A bullet pierced through Will's skin, and before I could grasp what was - 

-

_No._

I was too close to fulfilling my purpose. 

The bullets that struck me only fueled me. 

_Until._

All I could see, all I could hear, all I could smell, all I could taste, all I could touch was searing flame. 

Will’s body was useless to me now. 

But his memories remained.

-

_I am many, and I am few._

_I am numerous, and I am one._

_I am the absolution that the world seeks._

_I am the deliverance from a wicked, spiteful, ignorant, foolish race._

_**I. Am.** _

_-_

Read Jemma’s reaction to finding out who returned from Maveth by checking out  **[He'll Find His Way Back](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6950593/chapters/17160689)**. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for wozzler12, and I gotta say - I really liked the prompt about meeting Fitz from Hive’s perspective. Such a cool idea. I couldn’t not write his perspective in first person - he harnessed way too much of an omnipotent vibe to tell his story any other way. I hope I did it justice!


	7. Out of the Shadows

“Is Simmons there? We don’t move until we find Simmons.” 

They _had_ \- she was in the belly of the beast, as it were, and they _had_ to get her out of there. 

Through any means necessary. 

Garrett kept insisting to kill the she-devil herself, and he was against violence to an extent, but - 

But Simmons. 

But _Jemma._

“Yeah, it’s an option, sir.” 

“Without questioning?” And there Coulson was again. Choosing the morally sound path. 

He was right.

But - but _Jemma_. 

Garrett apparently still needed to be convinced, because he began to list Agent Hand’s transgressions. Her sins. 

Fitz was too distracted. Too distracted with thoughts of saving Jemma. 

“She tortured you, using that same machine she used to brainwash that bitch in the flowered dress. And right now, she’s probably doing the same to Agent Simmons.” 

_NO._

She would be - she _had_ to be - 

“No. Simmons will be fine.” 

“Just being realistic, kid.” 

Well he could shove his realistic ideas up his realistic -

“I never mentioned that.” 

Coulson’s words cut into Fitz’s thoughts, and he wracked his brain, thinking of what Garrett said earlier.

“I never said- Raina had been inside the machine. I never told that to anybody.”

And then - Garrett started to backpedal. 

_Backpedal_. Which could only -

Which meant - 

**_Oh. Oh,_ NO.**

_It couldn’t be - It couldn’t be - It couldn’t be - It couldn’t be - It couldn’t be - It couldn’t be - It coul -_

“Phil...look. It’s been a rough day. i - I get it. But you need to take a second and...damn it.” 

**_DAMN IT._ **

It was - _GARRETT_  was the - 

How could - 

First _Hydra_ , and now - 

And where the **fucking hell** was _Jemma_? 

More agents barged into the room, and Fitz threw his hands up in surrender, grateful that Garrett would be taken away, and he could focus on finding - 

“Gentlemen, I know Agent Sitwell was in charge of filling your ranks, so at least a few of you know what to do in this situation.”

What did he _mean_ by - 

“Anytime, boys.”

Garrett sounded too collected. Too composed. Too -

Fitz gasped quietly as the bodies fell to the floor. 

“Hail Hydra.” 

Garret was smug. And it - 

“Hail Hydra.” 

And this was - 

He and Coulson and May - they were all going to die. He tried to make peace with the situation - tried to  -

_No, fuck that._ He was going to _die_.

He’d never -

And it would - 

The sight of the trail of blood left on the floor from the bodies being dragged away from -

Fitz felt sick.

“Are you going to kill us?” His calm voice thankfully didn’t betray his paralyzing fear. Or maybe - maybe he was just numb from shock. 

“That wasn’t my plan, really.”

His _plan_. His plan of helping the team save Skye and bringing aboard Agent Triplett and - was he...too? 

_Jemma_ was with Trip. 

But he couldn’t think about - not now - not when a murderous, traitorous spy was before them, spewing vile truths and nonsense, and - 

Innocent people _died_ because of this man. This man that the team had all trusted implicitly. 

Responsible for shooting Skye. 

His vision became blurred, and his eyes were wet.

Ward’s supervising officer - he couldn’t even imagine how Ward would take the news, and it - 

Through Garrett’s disgusting dialogue, he learned that the infiltration of Hydra - it went all the way to the top of leadership. 

This organization - this _belief_ that he was going to make a difference - 

S.H.I.E.L.D. had become a permanent constant in his life. And for it to be - 

Tears steadily streamed down his face. 

“As for you, Agent Fitz, you'll hold a very high rank on our tech division if you volunteer. If not, you'll have no rank and a lot of pain. Of course, either way, your services will be required.”   
  
And then it - 

No matter _what_ would happen to him - 

He knew _exactly_ what he needed to say. 

“You’re gonna suffer for what you’ve done. And I - I plan on being a very big part of that.” 

He would make _damn_ sure of it. 

He flinched, shrinking from away Garrett when he slapped him on the shoulder - in a way too familiar, too friendly - it made - 

It made the whole thing that much more deplorable. 

Garrett was a fucking, murderous wank, and Fitz wasn’t a bloody kid. 

“Alright, let ‘em have it.” 

Fitz’s blood ran cold as he realized what Garrett - 

“But shoot that one in the kneecaps.” 

Was he supposed to feel fucking _grateful_ to - 

The lights flickered off then, giving May and Coulson a chance to fight back, and Fitz flung himself under the table, shaking, yearning to awaken from the nightmare. 

Hewasgonnadiehewasgonnadiehewasgonnadiehewasgonnadiehewas-

He noticed a gun lying within reach, and he grabbed it, preparing to - 

It all happened so fast. It all happened so fast, and yet every single image, every single sound - it was all burned permanently in his brain. 

The image of one of the Hydra agents pointing his gun at May. The image of May’s look of fear for her life - a look she rarely ever wore. The heated weight of the gun in his hands. He could almost - 

He could almost _see_ the bullets. 

One. 

Two, Three. 

The man fell dead at May’s feet, and Fitz threw the gun away from him, the impact of realization scalding him. 

And instead of gratitude or relief, May just _stared_ at Fitz, and they both shared a brief moment of silence for Fitz’s loss of innocence. 

-

May had taken care of the rest of the Hydra agents, and then Coulson had the upper hand on Garrett, knocking him out with the gadget Fitz tossed him.

And then another team of agents stormed into the room, and at their request, he threw his arms up in surrender, numbly. 

Standing slowly. 

And then _she -_

In the blink of an eye, Jemma was flush against him, throwing her arms around him, gripping him tightly. 

He held her, and thoughts of Garrett and Hydra and his first kill and his hardened heart and the fall of S.H.I.E.LD. all seemed to dissipate. 

All that mattered - 

All that -

She was in his arms. 

There was a lot of uncertainty. A lot of fear. A lot of fear of that uncertainty. 

But she was in his arms. 

And - for now - that was all he knew. 

-

To catch a glimpse of Jemma's perspective (and more of a play-by-play of the scene), read [Heard Everything](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6950593/chapters/16176826). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was requested by AchillesMonkey who wanted to see Fitz's thoughts during Garrett's reveal.


	8. It's As Good As Can Be Expected

“Fitz?” Skye asked, her voice laced with concern. The rest stared at Simmons. 

Waiting. 

Simmons’s face betrayed his condition before she even spoke.

“He’s alive.” 

No _he’ll be fine_ s or _he’s progressed rapidly_ or _he’s awaken_ or - 

_He’s alive._

Fitz. 

The agent who refused to get his hands dirty and shied away from anything dangerous. 

The agent who had a heart of gold and thought the good of everyone until absolutely proven wrong. 

The agent who saved Simmons’s life by giving up his own. 

May was struck by how profound of an impact Fitz’s well-being had on her. 

Unbeknownst to her, he had slowly weaseled his way through the walls she had deliberately set in place. His presence and goodness had softened her firmly hardened heart. 

And that hardened heart broke ever so slightly when she heard what happened to him. 

But mourning would help nothing.

People lived, and people died, and people experienced debilitating head trauma, and life went on. 

-

She observed how often Simmons remained by Fitz’s hospital bed. For the first nine days, she barely left him, only excusing herself when forced by other members of the team. 

Simmons didn’t eat. She barely slept. And when she _did_ , it was simply out of fatigue and it was always at his side. Every part of her - inside and out - exuded exhaustion and heartbreak. 

May wondered if FitzSimmons merely had a sibling dynamic. From what she could see, their connection went much, much deeper. 

-

“You wanted to see me?” 

Coulson gestured for May to close the door, and she did, waiting expectantly. 

“Simmons met with me yesterday. She expressed a desire for transfer.” 

May’s eyebrow rose. “Transfer? How come?” 

Coulson merely gave her a look, and she pursed her lips, nodding. 

“It’s no secret that we’re currently in a losing battle with Hydra. So I’ve asked her to go dark, posing as an eager young scientist, hoping to make her mark within Hydra’s ranks.” 

“And are you sure Simmons can handle the challenges of going undercover?” 

“That’s what I wanted to ask you.” 

May grew silent, contemplating Coulson’s question. 

When she first met Agent Simmons, she saw a green field agent, relying mostly on her genius and scientific background. But they had handled more than a few missions together, and with each one, Simmons grew in skill and confidence.

“She can do it,” May assured Coulson firmly.

Coulson’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, but under the circumstances, it was enough.

“I think so, too.” 

-

She found Simmons packing up her bunk. Simmons was methodical and deliberate with each item she packed up, but it was clear her mind was elsewhere.

“Got a minute?” 

Simmons started at May's voice and clutched her chest.  “Agent May.” 

“Coulson filled me in on your plan. Thought you might like some pointers.” 

Simmons nodded.

And as she began advising Simmons, she couldn’t ignore the conflicted expression gracing the young agent’s features. 

-

“Did you tell him the truth?” 

Simmons scoffed. “Of course not. I’ve been explicitly ordered to keep my mission between you and the director alone.” 

May wanted to say something. Wanted to offer words of encouragement. Wanted to express her sympathy for what Simmons was doing. Wanted to assure her that Fitz would be alright. Wanted to assure her that _she_ would be alright in the field. Wanted to...

But those words would be false hope. Simmons didn’t need hope. She needed to focus on the job at hand.

So she said nothing. 

-

And when Simmons threw her arms around her unexpectedly, she stiffened, patting her back once. 

“Goodbye May.” There were tears in Simmons’s eyes, and May’s heart broke a tiny bit more to see this young lady so unhappy yet resigned to the situation. 

But she kept that part to herself. 

“Goodbye Jemma. And good luck.” 

-

Fitz’s recovery spiraled backward the minute Simmons left. She and the rest of team noticed him talking to himself, having full, whispered conversations, and it was unsettling to see this brilliant mind reduced to mutterings and long pauses of conversation. 

She stayed with him in the lab sometimes, especially when she wasn’t out in the field. 

His thoughts were jumbled and messy at best and incoherent and elementary at worst. 

It didn’t take her long to predict that counting on him for developing cloaking was an absolute unrealistic expectation. 

-

“Heard from...heard from Simmons? She’s been...it’s been...long...gone a long....she’s been gone a long time.” 

May gritted her teeth. 

“She’s in Sheffield, Fitz.” 

Fitz shook his head and brought his hand up to his brow, his eyes squinting tight. “No. No she...lied...she lied...to me about...about that. I can...I can feel...” 

May fixed him with a hard look. “We know what we’re supposed to know, Agent Fitz. That’s not a new protocol.” 

“I know...I know...it’s just...I’ve been...been...” 

May stared at him, waiting patiently for him to express his thoughts. He apparently thought better of it then, because he clamped his mouth shut. “No matter. I’ll just...get back to...” He gestured to the tools and items in front of him, and she nodded, leaving him alone in the lab. As she closed the door behind her, she heard him talking coherently and with a bit of confidence. 

Unfortunately, he was only expressing his well-articulated thoughts to himself. 

-

May stepped into the lab to find materials strewn all over the floor with Fitz staring down at them angrily.

“What happened?” May demanded, her voice full of worry.

“What do...what do you think? My brain...and my hands aren’t...it’s _useless_.” 

“It’s _not_ useless,” May insisted firmly. 

“Of course it is!” Fitz exploded. “I’m not...not getting better and...all of you are relying on me to...and...I _can’t_.” 

“Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Agent FItz. Pity won’t work with me.” 

Fitz sighed in frustration.

“You wanna get mad? You wanna get angry at something? Get angry at Ward. And harness that anger into getting better.” 

Fitz gaped at her. “That’s easier said...then....then....” 

May stepped closer to him, bending down to help him pick up the items on the floor. “I didn't say it would be easy.” 

May gave him a knowing look, handing him back some of the items, and swiftly exited the lab. 

And her hardened heart slightly chipped once more when she realized she had no idea if her words to him would work or not. 

-

Check out Fitz’s perspective in this episode by reading [All I Can Hear Is You](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6950593/chapters/16427446). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for skirk6072 and AchillesMonkey who both noticed the scene between May and Fitz in the first episode of the second season. May holds her cards close to her chest, so I’m just as intrigued as you are, regarding her thoughts about FitzSimmons as a couple and individuals.


	9. A Wolf in the Herd

Fitz stepped back, the words scrawled hastily into the picture not registering - not - he couldn’t - 

That would - everything he - 

A blood curdling scream - _Jemma’s_ \- shook him out of his thoughts, and he rushed to the sound, feeling guilty for feeling relieved that she was perfectly in one piece when he found her when...Agent Koenig...was _not._

The team stood around in the pantry, staring up at Koenig in shock. No one said anything. No one dared to. 

“I um..in the bathroom...there... on one of those pictures...it’s got to be a ruse...I won’t -” 

Coulson diverted his attention from Koenig’s body to study Fitz. “What did you see?” 

“Seriously, sir. I refuse to - it’s just not -” 

“ _Agent FItz_ ,” Coulson’s voice was deadly calm. “What did you see?” 

Fitz sighed, dropping his head. “Someone wrote the words ‘Ward is Hydra’.”

Coulson exchanged a glance with Trip. “We need to get Agent Koenig’s body down here now to do an autopsy. Simmons, go get what you need to make that happen, and the three of us will retrieve the body.” 

“Sir, you don’t really believe that Ward -” 

“ _Now_ , Agent Simmons.” Coulson cut Fitz off, his eyes on Jemma. 

“Yes, sir.” 

Jemma left the three men alone in the pantry. Trip grabbed a ladder and settled it directly under where the body lay. He started walking up the steps and stepped precariously on the landing, gripping Koenig’s legs and swinging the body toward Coulson, already waiting for him on the ladder. Fitz watched dumbly, still trying to make sense of - 

“Fitz.” Coulson’s voice was strained. “We could use a little help here. Even as an agent, Koenig definitely made sure he didn’t skip any meals.” 

“And then some,” Trip muttered. 

Fitz saw the ladder about to topple over from the uneven distribution of weight, so he held it firmly to the ground while Coulson and Trip walked down, Koenig’s body clumsily in tow. 

“Where are we taking him, sir?” 

“Somewhere where Simmons can easily work.” 

“And preferably close by,” Trip grunted. 

“Let’s go the kitchen. We can put him on the counter,” Fitz suggested. 

Fitz walked ahead of them into the kitchen, clearing everything off of the counter, and the two other men placed Koenig onto it, breathing heavily from exertion once they released the body. 

No longer distracted from the task, he became a prisoner to his thoughts once more. 

It _couldn’t_ be - there had to be an - it just - _Ward_ being _Hydra_? It didn’t make sense. It wasn’t a logical conclusion. Ward was like a brother to him. And growing up with just his mum, he had come to really appreciate and respect the older agent. 

So for Ward to be - 

He ignored the conversation started between Coulson and Trip and only looked up when Jemma entered the kitchen, gloved and ready to begin the autopsy. 

-

“Ward did this.” 

Jemma’s tone was severe and even. Where there was no room for - 

**_FUCK._ **

He stopped thinking and fought her words by throwing and shoving and hitting everything within reach, because the physical - the _physical_ he could handle, and if he could just focus on _that_ , then - 

**_Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuc-_ **

He could feel a small hand - _Jemma’s_ - on his shoulder, soothing him. Through the glaring pain of betrayal, he could just make out Coulson’s words, hearing them in broken pieces. 

_hold it together...all that anger...focus it on Skye...fix the communications.._

He could - he could do that. That’s something he could do. 

He left the kitchen in a daze. 

_Fix the communications...fix the communications...fix the communications...fix -_

“Fitz.” He halted his steps upon hearing her voice and turned to look at her. Her eyes were wet, and there were dried tracks on her cheeks where tears must’ve fallen, and if he didn’t already _hate_  - “I know it’s... _well._ I was wondering if you could - I’d umm - I’d like to see the message Skye wrote us. I just - I _need_ to see it for my - myself.” 

Fitz nodded, wordlessly motioning for her to follow him to the bathroom. He slammed the door open and pointed to the haunting picture, the words staring at them ominously. 

“I still can’t believe it,” Jemma voice cut into the foreboding silence. 

“There’s something we’re - something we’re missing, Jemma. There’s got to be an explanation for -” 

“ _Fitz_.” He couldn’t look at her, not with the way her eyes held concern and empathy - not like that. He _couldn’t_. He wasn’t ready to - 

“You know, I’m gonna go see what I can do about communications.” 

She grabbed his arm, but he wrestled it out of her grasp, leaving her alone in the bathroom. 

And as he kept walking, he could still hear her sniffles. 

-

For Jemma's holistic POV of the whole ordeal, check out [Just Assumed We'd Be Better at Spotting It](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6950593/chapters/16314872).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This prompt was requested by AchillesMonkey who lives for the Fitz angst. I do too; not gonna lie. Hope you enjoyed!


	10. End of Story

“So...where would you like to start?” 

"Excuse me.” Jemma stepped away from the group, walking swiftly inside the base. 

“Med bay. Agent Simmons hasn’t left that room except to greet you guys,” Agent Koenig - _really?_ - said knowingly. 

Trip could only imagine. 

He couldn’t quite comprehend what happened to Fitz, and he silently grieved for his friend. 

-

He purposely waited several hours before paying a visit to Fitz’s room, passing a more solemn than normal May. 

Jemma - of course - was inside the room. 

She gripped Fitz’s lifeless hand, and her cheeks were streaked with tears, and - frankly - she looked pretty awful. 

“Hey,” Trip murmured. 

She didn’t acknowledge him. 

He pulled up a seat next to hers. 

They stayed like that for awhile. 

-

He went back to the hospital room the following day, a pack of saltines in his hand. 

Jemma hadn’t moved. 

She was still wearing the same clothes. Still holding onto Fitz’s pale hand. 

Still looked awful. 

“Jemma, come on. You have to take care of yourself. Eat something.” Jemma didn’t even look up, begrudgingly letting go of Fitz’s hand to accept the crackers. 

The crackers soon crumbled in her fist, and Trip merely sighed. 

She simply wiped the crumbs on her pants and reclaimed Fitz’s hand, staring at him longingly. 

_Longingly._

That’s when it hit him. 

He shook his head, clearing his thoughts, and felt incredibly guilty about focusing on anything but Fitz’s recovery. 

-

“A little heads up would’ve been nice.” 

He approached Skye, standing next to her as they peered into the window of Fitz’s hospital room. Jemma - of course - was half asleep on his cot, her hair fanned out behind her in tangles, her hand gripping Fitz’s loosely. 

It was a heart-wrenchingly beautiful sight to see. 

“What are you talking about?” Skye turned to face him, but he kept looking straight ahead at - at _them_. 

He didn’t answer her directly. Not really. “You never told me she was unavailable.” 

“Who, Jemma? Of course she is. She’s totally single.” 

“ _Skye_.” 

He tore his eyes away from the pair to see Skye open her mouth to protest. When he merely raised an eyebrow, she deflated, exhaling dramatically. 

“That’s why Fitz was acting weird with me before, wasn’t it? I can’t believe I missed that.” 

“I think Jemma did too, in case it makes you feel better.” 

Trip turned back to stare at FitzSimmons. Both asleep. One on his death bed. One at her breaking point.

“I don’t think she’s in the dark about it now.” 

“No. I don’t think she is.” 

-

And then she was gone. With barely a goodbye. Leaving Fitz. Leaving the team. 

He had clearly misjudged her. 

Her actions were selfish. They were cowardly. They were -

It hurt that she left them. For months. With no explanation. No warning. 

But life went on, and after a while, the ache faded. He found himself getting used to the new team dynamics. He got along great with Skye and started to look forward to the time they spent together. 

He tried to give Fitz his space, not wanting to patronize or upset him.  He didn’t know if that was the right way to handle the situation, and he struggled with figuring out how to navigate his interactions with Fitz. 

Fitz’s mind appeared to be elsewhere, regardless, and he couldn’t help noticing how the once brilliant engineer reverted to talking to himself. 

it made him sad. 

And it made him angry. 

And Simmons wasn’t there to witness it. 

-

And then he felt awful for thinking the worst of her. 

He had clearly misjudged her. 

He saw her hesitate outside the lab. Saw Fitz hesitate inside the lab. They were both immune to the audience and he tried to avert his eyes from the private moment, but he found he couldn’t. 

He saw her enter the lab slowly, stopping just inside the door, her fists clenched at her side. 

He saw him simply stare at her, wringing his hands together, nodding aloofly. 

He saw her, and he saw him, and he saw _them_ , and it was enough for him to resign himself to the inevitable. 

Besides, he had stopped thinking of Jemma like _that_ awhile ago. 

He sort of had a crush on someone else anyway. 

-

Read Jemma’s spiral into madness during the nine longest days of her life by checking out [So Please. Let Me Show You](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6950593/chapters/16411288). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for wozzler12 who requested Trip realizing the stronger than platonic bond between FitzSimmons. :)


	11. Like Some Sort of Creeper

Fitz closed the door to Jemma’s bunk after a flustered goodbye. He cursed himself for being so awkward around her. It was just a bloody hug for Pete’s sake. She’d given him dozens of them after all. So why was this one different? Why did he react the way he did? Why did the thought of a simple hug make his palms clammy and send his heart racing? 

He was happy he helped lift her spirits after her phone conversation with her dad, but he didn’t expect the hug that came with her gratitude. He should’ve. They’d been best mates for ten years. She was bound to hug him from time to time. 

But this hug came _after_. 

After she stopped being Simmons and started being _Jemma_. It was the most physical contact they had shared since she had kissed his cheek after calling him a hero. After he had realized... _well._

**_After._ **

He had to figure out a way - to strategize a plan - to control his reactions so that she wouldn’t catch on to his - _well_ , to put it quite frankly - his change of heart. 

He was fine with her never knowing, as far as he was concerned. And maybe that was cowardice. Maybe that was avoidance. But he didn’t care. He couldn’t find it in him to upset the equilibrium. To cause a deviation from their platonic, simple rapport. And maybe - just maybe - he’d get over those nuisances of feeling, and they could get on like always. 

He already knew that was a grand improbability.

He stopped outside his bunk, opening his door, and abruptly halted, not expecting the sight before him. Ward’s back was turned, and he was clearly unaware of Fitz’s presence. 

“What are you doing here?” 

Fitz could see Ward’s shoulder’s stiffen, and whatever he was holding had slipped from his grasp. 

“Hey Fitz.” Ward turned around, and a suave smile tugged at the corner of his lips. 

“What are you doing here?” Fitz repeated. 

Ward chuckled, but he sounded...almost... _nervous_. “Wanted to tell you something. Thought this was the best way to reach you. Sorry about that.” 

He brushed past him, almost as if he were making a quick escape. But he still hadn’t - 

“Wait,” said Fitz.

Ward paused. 

“You said you had something to tell me.” 

Fitz almost missed Ward’s initial grimace that morphed into a self-assured grin when he turned back around. 

“Just wanted to - to _thank_ you for having my back. I said a lot of stuff after I held that staff. Stuff I didn’t mean. To you. To Simmons. To you _about_ Simmons. I just wanted to clear the air. Make sure you knew that I would never say anything like that on my own volition.” 

Fitz shrugged. “Of course I know, Ward. I know you wouldn’t do anything to hurt us.” 

Ward stared at Fitz for a long time, and Fitz grew uneasy under his steady gaze, Ward nodded, as if - it was almost as if he were convincing himself to - 

“You’re right. I wouldn’t.” 

And then he was gone.

“That was odd,” Fitz muttered to himself.

Plagued by curiosity, he crossed over to where he had found Ward standing. He picked up the discarded item Ward had dropped. Seeing the item only created more questions. 

What could Ward possibly want with a picture of him and his mum? 

The whole exchange was too bizarre. He wasn’t going to even try to make sense of it. He had enough of an issue with his burgeoning feelings for a certain teammate. 

He definitely didn’t need Ward’s weirdness thrown into the mix. 

-

Check out Fitz’s present day going-ons in the episode “Closure” by reading [Give Up the World](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6950593/chapters/17138623) 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for AchillesMonkey who was intrigued with Fitz’s interrogation anecdote.


	12. All We Have Is Each Other

To set the mood, listen to Brandi Carlile’s [The Tragedy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eujMNVdpCTU) as you read this one. It’s the perfect balance between friendship, angst, and a tinge of romance. Also, Brandi Carlile is just the shit in general, so you should check out her music regardless. Seriously. 

-

“Who is? How deep does it go?” 

Jemma’s grip on Fitz tightened at Coulson’s words, and Fitz held her more securely. 

“Phil, Hydra is _everywhere_.” Jemma had never been exposed to the slight tremor in Hand’s usually confident bravado, and it was something she never wanted to experience ever again. 

Fitz slowly started to release her, and she reluctantly let him. For whatever reason, she still needed to be close to him, so she pivoted until she was next to him, pressing her arm against his. Fitz glanced at her out of the corner of his eye but said nothing. 

Nothing needed to be said. Not when she was standing with her best friend at her side while S.H.I.E.L.D. crumbled all around them. 

Nothing needed to be said.

-

Jemma found him on the Bus, crumpled into himself, head bowed, and looking weary. Exhausted. Pained. 

“Hi Fitz.” 

He looked up, throwing her a sad attempt of a smile, and she sat across him at the little table. 

“Did you ever think it would come to this? Did you ever imagine we’d be here?” Fitz asked in a small voice.

Jemma chuckled thinly. “Of course not. Who could ever have -” 

“I killed someone.” 

There were tears in Fitz’s eyes, and she took a wavering breath, silently encouraging him to continue. She hoped her expression was neutral and even and did nothing to betray her burgeoning emotions underneath. 

_I killed someone._

_I killed someone._

_I killed -_

“It all - Jemma, it happened so...we were fighting for our lives in there - against Garrett and his crew.” 

“I know. Don’t you remember? I heard it -” 

“Yeah. Of course, I know,” Fitz cut in hurriedly, waving his hand.

He proceeded to tell her what happened. How he hid under the desk. (She would’ve done the exact same thing.) How May was face to face with a Hydra agent. Weaponless. How Fitz reached for the abandoned gun and shot the man three times. 

Wait. 

_Three._

“Those three gunshots...that was you?” Jemma asked slowly. 

Fitz only nodded in reply. 

Jemma laughed then. She realized it was inappropriate timing. But she couldn’t help it. She laughed from exhaustion, and she laughed from relief, and she laughed, despite Fitz’s confused expression, and she laughed, and she laughed, and she laughed. Tears sprung to her eyes, and she clutched her chest, and she tried to compose herself. 

“I don’t know,” Fitz began, his tone betraying his slight offense at her outburst. “I don’t know what part of that was a comical anecdote for you.” 

“Oh, Fitz,” Jemma sighed, reaching for his hand across the table. “Don’t you see? I _heard_ it. I _heard_ those three gunshots, and I was so - so _frightened_. I thought - I thought _you_  -”

Fitz’s eyes widened, and he nodded gravely. 

“None of this is funny. I’m just - I’m so relieved that it was you behind the trigger.” 

“You’re not...” Fitz wouldn’t meet her eyes. “You’re not disgusted with me? I killed a - I _killed_ a man, Jemma. A man who might’ve had a family. A man who was -” 

“You took out a Hydra agent who was about to shoot May. You saved her life, Fitz,” Jemma interjected passionately. 

The fact that he would even _think_  she considered him any less of a hero...

She squeezed his hand. “I _am_ sorry you were forced to shoot him, Fitz.” 

He squeezed her hand back. 

Skye found them ten minutes later in the same position. Holding hands, sitting silently, and processing what S.H.I.E.L.D. had become. 

Or - rather - what it apparently _always_ was. 

-

Check out both of their perspectives during said events:

Fitz:  **[Out of the Shadows](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7667776/chapters/17636296)**

Jemma:  **[Heard Everything](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6950593/chapters/16176826)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for muchadoaboutdoctorwho who requested a scene between the two after the dust settled from the events in “Turn, Turn, Turn”. :)


	13. Getting into Character

“There you two are!” 

Skye looked up to find Jemma peering at her excitedly through her tortoise-shell rimmed frames. 

“Simmons, you’re only meant to be wearing those on our actual mission.” 

Jemma scoffed. “Ugh, Fitz. Naturally, I’m aware of that. I’m simply letting my character’s persona take over my physicality so that I’m more prepared to portray her at the proper time.” 

Skye smirked. “Don’t you think you’re being a little excessive with this? I mean, all you really need to do is make it believable that you’re traveling with Coulson and tail the head of security.” 

“Were you or were you not present when I performed that horrendous display in front of poor Agent Sitwell?” 

Skye shuddered. “No, you’re right. You were literally the _worst_.” 

Jemma nodded triumphantly. “Hence my preparation. In fact, I need your help.” Jemma looked between the two of them. 

“Jemma, we were just about to -”

“Oh, I know you two need to form a plan about comms, so it won’t take long. Fifteen minutes, tops.” Jemma cut off Fitz’s protest, putting her hands on hips. She looked so ridiculous in her tights and plaid dress (another “acting choice”) and glasses with her eyes pleading and lips formed in a little pout. Skye shook her head, laughing amusedly. 

“Sure, Simmons. What do you need us to do?”

-

And soon enough, the three of them were scheming and chuckling over Chinese takeout and beer. Well, Fitz and Skye were chuckling. Simmons was scarily serious about the whole thing. 

“As we’ve already discussed, Emma Higgins is in her fourth year at the University of Gloucestershire in the Cotswolds where she commuted from there to her home, caring for her ailing mum on her deathbed.” 

Skye snorted and was met with an unamused Jemma. 

“And what is so humorous about a dying family member?” 

“Nothing, Nothing!” Skye threw her hands up in surrender. She refused to meet Fitz’s gaze. She knew if she did, they’d both start cracking up again, and it was apparent that Jemma was having _none_ of it. “I swear.” 

“Jemma,” Fitz began slowly. “Why is it necessary for you to name the college your undercover person is attending?” 

Jemma raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t it obvious, Fitz? What if I find myself in a nice chat with a fellow train passenger and they ask? I would ruin the entirety of the operation if I didn’t already have those answers at the ready.” 

“The entire operation? Really?” 

“While you might have no problem with lying, _Skye,_ I have yet to perfect the skill.” 

Skye stared at her, processing her accusation. “ _Hurtful_. How many times do I have to -” 

“You don’t,” Fitz cut in sternly. “Simmons, can I talk with you privately for a moment?” 

“We’re not done with -” 

“I think we are.” Before Jemma could protest, Fitz gripped her elbow pulling her aside. 

Skye, of course, heard every word.

“What the hell was that, Simmons?” 

“I’m just _trying_ to take this seriously and be as prepared as possible. And you two are being so -” 

“What’s this really about, Jemma?” 

Skye heard Jemma sigh. “I’m tired of being helpless in the field. And this mission involves no physical exertion on my end, so I want to do my part to contribute to the best of my ability.”

“By insulting other teammates?” 

“Perhaps I was a bit too harsh with -” 

“ _Perhaps_?” 

“Right. I _was_ too harsh with Skye.” 

“Skye’s been nothing but genuine and supportive after what happened in Texas.” 

Skye’s heart swelled unexpectedly at Fitz’s kind words.

“I know. I should go apologize.” 

Skye heard footsteps headed towards her, and she positioned herself to look casual, suddenly fascinated with her food.  

“Before you do...” 

Skye heard a bit of rustling and took one last peek at the two, seeing them locked in an embrace. 

Maybe Fitz was _finally_ going to make his move. 

But much to her dismay, he let go of her pretty quickly. 

“What was that for?” Jemma asked a bit breathlessly. 

_Honestly_. How on earth were they not already -

“You’re going to do fine, Jemma. You don’t need to kill yourself over this backstory. We’re going to track down Ian Quinn, and we’re going to do it together. The six of us.” 

“We do make a pretty good team, don’t we?” 

“The _best_.” 

Skye saw them start to look away from each other, and she quickly averted her eyes, not wanting them to know she caught their private moment.

When she looked up again, FitzSimmons were standing in front of her, and she bit her lip, trying to act oblivious. 

“Skye,” Jemma began, a slight blush tinting her cheeks. “I didn’t mean to imply...that is, I’m sorry for -” 

Skye grinned. “Forget it, Simmons.” 

“It’s just that you’re such an integral part of this team, now, and I never want you to -” 

“Jemma, seriously. We’re good.” 

Jemma exhaled with relief. “Alright. Alright, good then.” 

She sat down at the table, scooting next to Skye, and Skye caught Fitz’s dopey expression, as he stared at Jemma with a slight look of pride.

Skye cleared her throat, hoping to startle Fitz back to reality, and - thankfully - she did. 

“Do you all want to know where Emma and her dad and mum vacationed to on their last holiday?” 

Skye groaned good-naturedly. “Sure, Simmons. Although if you say Tahiti, I might have to strangle you.” 

-

Check out the full-on angst of Jemma reeling from Skye’s close encounter with death in  **[To Keep Her Alive](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6950593/chapters/15954802)**. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for AchillesMonkey who requested a scene of Jemma’s vigorous preparation for her backstory with Coulson. And then as I was writing, it turned slightly angsty with shipper Skye in the wings. Hope it was still fluffy enough! <3


	14. For Once in Your Life

The call was brief. 

She simply wanted to check in. Let him know she was fine. Encourage him to refrain from tracking her down. 

But she wasn’t expecting - 

 _“May._ Simmons. _She’s - she’s M.I.A.”_ Coulson sounded - he sounded choked up, and May - she - 

She didn’t - she couldn’t - not right - not _after_ - 

“For how long, Phil?”

_“Three months ago. The monolith swallowed her up right after you left. FItz is - Fitz is unraveling steadily.”_

“And you’re surprised?” 

_“No. He’s actually - he’s been pursuing every avenue he can to get her back. I’m just - I’m afraid he’s - nothing about this can end well for her, May.”  
_

“You don’t think she’s…”

She couldn’t finish the thought. She _couldn’t_. And he couldn’t either, because all he did was sigh in response. 

_“We’ll be ready for you whenever you decide to come back, Agent May.”_

“I’m not so sure I’ll be -” 

_“It’s okay. We’ll still be ready.”_

She wondered if he was tracing her call. So she decided to cut the conversation short - just in case. 

“I hope you find Simmons, Phil.” 

_“Me too, M-”_

She hung up before he could finish saying her name. 

She leaned her head against the wall of the phone booth. 

_She’s M.I.A._

She couldn’t believe it. 

_Simmons._

She - her heart broke, thinking about the young scientist. 

_She’s just a kid._

And she could only imagine Fitz’s rash, obsessive behavior. 

Her team was falling apart. Bobbi was still recovering. Coulson literally lost a hand. Simmons was - 

She stopped herself. It wasn’t _her team_ anymore. Not when she was trying to be - trying to _live_ a - 

She needed to go check on her dad. Help him out with his physical therapy.

But instead, she stole twelve more minutes in the phone booth. 

Grieving for Jemma Simmons. 

-

She saw the name on her phone flash and hesitated before answering. 

Fuck him. If he could be civil, then so could she. Plus, she deserved it. After all, she _did_ leave him first. 

Karma was a bitch.

“Yes?” 

_“Your team pulled off a miracle today. Fitz got Simmons back. I thought you deserved to know.”_

And just like that - her heart it - it _swelled_ hearing his voice, despite her fervent desire for the opposite. And it _swelled_ hearing about Simmons. 

Simmons. 

Was. 

 _Alive_. 

Fitz did the _impossible_. 

_“They think she’s gonna be okay if you want to come back and see her. Or stay.”_

And there it was. 

He didn’t get to be this warm with her. Be this - 

He _left_ her. Without a trace. And now - 

_“I think headquarters is big enough for the two of us.”_

She needed to put an end to the conversation. 

“I’m glad she’s safe.”

And she _was._

She hung up the phone quickly before Andrew could.. _.well._ She addressed her new ally instead. 

“Simmons is back. She’s okay.” 

Hunter’s reaction did not disappoint. “Are you serious? She’s alive?! Fitz, you absolute beauty!” He started rushing around, rambling about beer, and it was ridiculous, but Simmons was alive, and she was about to sit down to a beer with Hunter, and Simmons was _**alive**_. 

-

“You weren’t there to see Fitz go mad these past six months,” Hunter took a long pull from his beer and placed it next to an empty bottle. She slowly nursed her first. She didn’t respond which - apparently - was her signal to encourage him to keep talking. “Poor bloke exhausted every inch of the earth, tracking her down. He barely slept. It was very ‘absent-minded professor’, really.” 

May rolled her eyes. “Looks like it paid off.” 

“Of course it did, love. They’re FitzSimmons, for bloody sake.” May simply just raised an eyebrow, and once again, Hunter continued his rambling. “He loves her so fucking much that he couldn’t even allow another fucking planet to get between them. She’s alive because of his unwavering devotion to her. He literally couldn’t function, thinking of the alternative.” 

May couldn’t imagine what those six months must’ve looked like for Fitz. She thought about - 

“And not proud of it, but we sorta encouraged him to call it quits. But he never did. Thought him a foolish sod for refusing to listen to reason. We all did. Well. ‘Cept for Bob. She covered for him the whole time.” 

May caught the glint in his eye when he mentioned his ex-wife but said nothing about it.

She lifted her beer instead. “To Simmons’s return.” 

“And to Fitz for never losing hope.” 

_Hope._

She squashed that unwelcome word where it belonged and clinked her bottle with Hunter’s. 

“Okay. Enough celebrating.” 

Hunter’s reaction was slightly delayed due to inebriation, but he caught on to what she meant soon enough, leaning towards her.

“Let’s cross off that son-of-a-bitch.” 

-

Check out Jemma’s POV when Fitz rescued her in  **[But She Saw the Flare](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6950593/chapters/16989291)**. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for Tashonix who wanted to see May’s thoughts during Fitz’s spiral. Well, since she’s not actually present during those six months, I went by what was said in “Purpose in the Machine” where she found out about Jemma from a phone call. Hope you still liked! :)


	15. That I'm Keeping from You?

 

He knew the minute that Fitz realized who was behind the prison cell door. Fitz’s whole expression changed. His body froze, shaking from the adrenaline and panic at seeing the traitor in the flesh. 

Coulson let out an audible sigh, finding it harder and harder to continue watching the video feed. 

And Ward wouldn’t keep his damn mouth shut.

_“I imagine you’ve got a lot to say to me.”_

He saw Fitz stare at him in disbelief, turning away, trembling. Filled with - 

_“Look, despite all this - it’s really good to see you.”_

Ward was a delusional, manipulative, _evil_ piece of - 

_“Fitz. Fitz, are you al-”  
_

_“Stop. Stop talking. Stop.”_

Yet. Ward - that _son of a bitch_ \- continued anyway. 

Coulson couldn’t - it was almost like Ward genuinely believed what he was saying. 

_“I didn’t want to hurt you. i tried to avoid it.”_

Ward said it with so much feeling, and it shook Coulson to his very core. Every additional word that Ward uttered was mounting evidence of him being a true psychopath. 

_“You tried to kill us._ ” Fitz’s tone was severe. Matter-of-fact. Clipped.

_“No. I wanted to_ save _you. Garrett ordered me to kill you and Simmons.”_ Ward took a breath then, seemingly overcome, and Coulson wondered if Ward was being sincere or just a really fucking good actor. _“But I couldn’t. I gave you a fighting chance to find a way out, like you always do. Like you did.”_

_“_ Save _me? Do you - do you - do you know what the...um...what the...okay. I - you know I have trouble with words - so - um...It’s probably best that I show you.”_

Fitz looked down at the tablet, finger poised, and Coulson figured out what he was going to do before he acted. 

_Well, he certainly didn’t mention_ this _part of his chat with Ward._

He couldn’t blame him. Yet. 

This wasn’t Fitz. This was - 

This was _wrong._

_“Show me what?”_

_“Hypoxia. Found that one,”_ Fitz stated confidently.  _“That’s what you did to me.”_

Ward’s breaths started getting shallower, and he _hated_ the guy with every fiber of his being, but Fitz still crossed a line. 

A big one.

_“Fitz? What are you doing?”_

_“I’m showing you...what it’s like when you’re deprived of - uh - the oxygen...br - the brain cells...they...they’re...they react first. They die. Three minutes. Damage is permanent.”_

_“Where’s Skye?”_ Coulson _hated_ that he was feeling almost - _sympathetic_ to that son of a bitch. 

Almost.

_“Gone. They’re all gone after Donnie. And I should be there with them. But I can’t - because of you. Because of what you did to me! I’m damaged!”_

And while Coulson was shaken from Fitz’s actions and cruelty, he was - it was almost _good_ that Fitz was able to express what he did to his tormentor. 

And as Ward warned him about Donnie, he reflected on Fitz’s words. It was clear that Fitz felt left out from the team. He had refrained from telling Fitz everything - about Ward, about Jemma - because he didn’t want to - 

Fitz had already been through so much. He didn’t want to add on to Fitz’s already heavy load. 

Yet. it was clear to him now that his leaving Fitz out of the loop did the opposite.

He saw Fitz’s glare at Ward morph into something - something _else_ as Ward continue to struggle for breath with each new word he said.

Fitz was silent for a long moment, and then tapped the tablet. Ward keeled over in relief, gulping in shallow bouts of oxygen. 

_“Thank - thank you, Fi-”_

_“ **Don’t.** ”_

_-_

Coulson thought back to his dinner with Jemma. She was lonely (she even said it herself) and clearly missed Fitz. 

What she did...what she decided to do after witnessing Fitz’s lack of progress with her around...it was an act of love. He would never deny how fiercely Fitz and Simmons cared about each other. 

But maybe...

He couldn’t think back on the _what ifs_. A good director only focussed on the present. The future. 

_It is what it is_. 

And right now - in the present - he needed to confront Fitz about nearly killing Grant Ward. 

-

This is for AchillesMonkey who requested a fic in Coulson’s perspective as he watched the security footage.

Check out Jemma’s battle of thoughts aligned with her wake-up song in  **[It's Been a Tad Lonely, True](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6950593/chapters/16470586)**


	16. Feeling Vulnerable

There was a steely resolve in Simmons’s eyes that wasn’t quite there before the guys’ dangerous trip from Maveth. So May wasn’t even surprised when she stumbled upon Simmons in a tense stance, focused on her target practice, in a manner so very like May’s own.

She knew Simmons was hurting. She lost a man that she loved to the supernatural elements of the new world they now inhabited. May knew firsthand how heart-wrenching that was. 

But after confronting her about it, May realized it went much, much deeper than that. May was no stranger to Fitz’s sacrificial acts for Simmons’s sake, but she didn’t know how much guilt Simmons wrestled with because of it. And she wanted to punch something - _hard -_ when Simmons revealed she was shouldering all the responsibility for what happened to the inhumans in Gloucestershire. 

_It wasn’t her fault._

But there was no convincing her otherwise. Because in many ways, May could completely empathize with the guilt. 

So she did what she did best. She channeled it. And taught Simmons how to do the same. 

And it was working.

Until Simmons brought up a possible way to save Andrew. May and Andrew weren’t going to have the happy ending that they had dreamed of and longed for before all this. It was too late for them.

In a lot of ways, Simmons was like May. And May was like Simmons.

But Simmons had the one thing with Fitz that May lacked with Andrew.

It wasn’t love. Even though any fool could see the love that existed between the two scientists, love wasn’t always enough. May and Andrew were living proof of that.

No.

Simmons and Fitz had that one thing in the whole world that May pushed away with every fiber of her being. 

_Because, really. What good would it do?_

Simmons and Fitz had _hope._

And that _**HOPE** _ wouldcarry them through the roughest of challenges. The bleakest of situations. 

There was no hope for Andrew and May. 

When she next saw him, she was going to kill him.

And their hopeless entanglement. 

For good. 

-

To read a missing closing scene between FitzSimmons in this episode, check out [For the Lot of It](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6950593/chapters/17249071). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Tashonix who requested more of May’s perspective with this ep in particular.


	17. That's Why She Left

_No way._

If Coulson only knew. He being the all-knowing director and all. 

**_No BLOODY way in hell._ **

She didn’t _leave_ to fulfill an assignment. 

She left - she left because of _him_. 

He’s damaged goods now. A useless agent. 

He can’t be the Fitz to her Simmons anymore. _They_ can’t be FitzSimmons anymore. 

So Coulson can take his patronizing pep talk and piss off. 

-

He found her in the training room. Her fists making the punching bag fly again and again. He cleared his throat, and his Simmons counterpart fluttered away when she turned to face him, halting her movements. 

“Hi, Fitz. What - um - what brings you by here?” Skye’s tone was hesitant and delicate.

He hated it.

Fitz forced a smile. “Thought I’d…I’d give you…give you some boxing pointers.” 

Skye cracked a smile, and he mentally celebrated that his terrible joke did what he intended. Lightened her up a bit. He wasn’t a bloody glass figurine. She wasn’t going to break him.

Didn’t she see? 

He was already broken.

“I know…I heard you and - and Trip dis - dis - discussing Simmons. You know where she…you know where she is, don’t you?” 

Skye bit her lip. “Fitz, you know we can’t -” 

“ _Please_.” 

Something in Fitz’s expression must’ve caused Skye to reconsider, because she sighed before looking past him to make sure it was only the two of them in the training room. 

“Coulson said she - that she was - that she’s on an assignment. It’s - it’s _Hydra_ , isn’t it?” 

His heart sank. 

Skye’s face said it all.

The room started to spin around him slightly, and he stumbled over to the punching bag, bracing himself against it with his good hand. 

“ _Fitz_. May’s assured me she’s doing fine. That she can handle it.” 

Fitz shot her an incredulous look. “And you - you really _believe_ that?”

Skye wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“ _Yeah_. That’s - that’s what I…”

“Coulson wouldn’t throw her in there without a plan though. Without some sort of…” 

“Are you saying...saying this to con - convince _me_ , Skye? Or yourself?” 

“Well, it’s better than thinking about the alternative! That she could…” Skye looked at him worriedly. 

Fitz threw up his hands. “No! By all means. Finish your…don’t stop on my account. There’s been enough of _that,_ lately.”

“ _Fitz.”_

But he was already in the hallway, leaning against the wall, burying his head in his hands, weeping softly.

And his dreamt up companion was nowhere in sight to console him. 

-

Check out Jemma’s inner turmoil in  **[It's Been a Tad Lonely, True](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6950593/chapters/16470586) ** and Coulson's conflicted perspective in  **[That I'm Keeping from You?](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7667776/chapters/18008170)**.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for AchillesMonkey because you know if you suggest either/or, I’m gonna do both.


	18. Any Thoughts?

Coulson left FitzSimmons and Lincoln feeling a bit confused. Like something was slightly off. The dynamic between the four of them held a new kind of tension.

A tension that he was beginning to pick up on ever since Daisy’s betrayal.

That wasn’t fair. Not betrayal. Ever since Daisy was _swayed_. 

_Still._

Something was different between FitzSimmons. There was a subtle shift that was plaguing the back of his mind. He hadn’t had the time to dwell on it too extensively. He had an inhuman and teammate to rescue. 

But the shift was there. Make no mistake about it.

_“I agree with Simmons that the antitoxin could be dangerous.”_

That wasn’t anything new. They agreed with each other all the time. Hell, they finished each others’ sentences. Of _course_ they were a united front.

_“But I also think there’s a chance it could work.”_

Again. Fitz sharing his own opinion (even if it differed from Simmons) was not a new phenomenon. They had alternate views about as much of the time as they had uniform ones. 

None of the words spoken indicated any sort of change. Any sort of alteration.

Except.

_Fitz hesitated_.

That brief pause Fitz took _before_ he spoke his mind. His almost _nervous_ glance at Simmons _before_ he shared his opinion.

_That_ was the shift.

And when Simmons spun around to confront him, and Coulson and Campbell witnessed the argument, he almost felt like they were intruding on the pair.

The _pair._

_That’s_  what it was. It was as if he were witnessing a lovers’ quarrel.

And if _that_ was the case, then that would mean...

_Oh._

**_Great._ **

-

“Agent MacKenzie.” 

Mack looked up from his sandwich, grimacing from his fresh Daisy-inflicted bruises.

“I was hoping you could fill me in on any new development between FitzSimmons.” 

Coulson hid his grin as Mack started to choke on his bite of sandwich, clearly not expecting Coulson’s line of questioning. He thumped his chest for a beat and then took a long pull of water from the bottle in front of him. Tears were gathering in his eyes, and Coulson allowed Mack to get himself a bit more together before continuing, “Based on that reaction, I’m assuming something _did_ happen.” 

Mack threw his hands up in surrender. “Hey Phil, all I know is what happened in Bucharest.” 

“Bucharest?” 

Mack clearly started to look uncomfortable and -

_Oh._

_**Great.** _

Coulson grimaced. “ _Okay._  That’s definitely not what I meant.” 

“Hey, you asked -” 

“I just wanted to know if they - not _that_ -  _great_ \- now I can’t think about anything -” 

Mack nodded empathetically. “How do you think _I’ve_ felt?” 

“Well, we knew this would happen sooner or later. I guess it’s just good that I’m informed of the situation.” 

“So can you T.A.H.I.T.I. the hell out of it for me now? ‘Cause just _thinking_ that -”

“Too soon, Agent MacKenzie.” 

“Sorry, sir.” 

-

He spotted them through the window of the medical bay. Simmons was frantic, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, getting Daisy set up on the hospital bed while she slept. 

He was exhausted, and he was relieved. Daisy was back. Daisy was _back_. She looked awful. She looked angered. She looked spent. But she was back. 

“ _Jemma_.” 

Fitz’s tone was intimate, and she stopped her hasty movements to regard him fully, taking his outstretched hand. Coulson watched as Fitz pulled her into a hug, pressing his lips to her hair. 

He left them alone, fully aware that he certainly _was_ intruding on the pair this time. 

-

Check out the pillow talk that ensued after Lincoln’s rash behavior in [Lovesick Fool](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6950593/chapters/17362819) and Jemma’s internal conflict after witnessing said behavior in both Fitz and now Lincoln in [Please. Just Let Me Do This](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7667776/chapters/17505613). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for AOSfangirl81 who wanted to get into Coulson’s headspace after witnessing the debate. This one became really fun to write!


	19. I'm Doom

And there she was.

A face that graced Will Daniel’s dreams ever since he caught a good look at her through the bars of his crude cage.

A face that haunted Grant Ward’s nightmares ever since he made the tactical decision to drop Jemma Simmons and Leopold Fitz from the sky.

She wore fancy clothing. She wore rouge. Her hair was in loose curls. Her eyes were darkened with black. 

She was aesthetically pleasing to the eye. Will would’ve been in total agreement. 

Will considered her absolutely gorgeous on my planet. 

Love is an interesting phenomenon.

Making the strongest of men weak.

A weakness that cost Will his very life.

-

It’s clear that Jemma grew even more defensive when I mentioned the man who set me ablaze with flame. 

Her Fitz.

But she had to know. It was Will’s wish to tell her.

She was where she was meant to be. She was with whom she was meant to be. 

And she needed to know.

-

She and Leopold Fitz were entering dangerous waters.

What better way to warn her than through words from her former lover? 

What better way to warn her than through Daisy attacking Fitz? 

What better way to warn her than through threatening their lives? 

It was for their own good.

In their best interest. 

I certainly didn’t want the young woman to be an unnecessary casualty. 

Death is a means to an end.

Death used in any other fashion is a waste.

And I am not a wasteful being.

-

Channeling Will appeared to be working. She was warming to my words. I could feel it, as I held her face softly. 

Her face full of anguished longing for what once was. 

Her face full of anguished fear for the man from whom she was just separated.

And then her face held something else.

Something...

_**Bang.**  _

_**Bang.** _

_**Bang.** _

She did not heed my warning.

She did not consider her best interest.

She did not consider _Fitz’s_ best interest.

And for that?

They would be shown no absolution.

-

Check out Jemma’s, Fitz's, and Mack's perspectives as FitzSimmons crosses the event horizon in [As We Deviate from that Path](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6950593/chapters/17340403), [Change Becomes Exponential](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7667776/chapters/17482855), and [This Will Go on All Night](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7667776/chapters/17461177), respectively. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for AchillesMonkey who simply alluded to this, and I just totally went with it, because I LOVE writing in Hive’s voice.


	20. Half the Stuff He Says

“Did I interrupt something?” 

Fitz only shook his head in response.

“What happened?”

Fitz shrugged, and Mack was already growing weary at his nonverbal cues. 

“ _Fitz.”_

Something in Mack’s tone must’ve resonated with Fitz, because he sighed before saying softly, “Simmons and I had a disa - a disagreement.” 

“Disagreement, huh? About what?” 

Fitz sank down heavily in his chair, refusing to look at Mack. “Remember that girl I told you and Hunter about? The one that left because I told her how I felt?” Mack nodded, already seeing where this was headed. “Well that girl was Simmons.” 

Mack tried to channel as much as a surprised facial expression as he could muster, because _come on_ , of _course_ it was Simmons.

“Really?” He uttered instead.

“Yeah, come off it, Mack. You don’t look shocked in the slightest. No need to lie for - for my benefit. Simmons has already done enough - enough of that already.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“She won’t just come out with the _real_ reason why she left. Why she left _me_.” 

“And you think it’s because you told her how -” 

“No, I _know_ it’s because of that. I ruined it all. I thought I was gonna die, so I couldn’t _not_ tell her, and now we’ll never...we’ll never recover.” 

Fitz was way too melodramatic for his own good.

“If that’s truly the case, Turbo, then maybe you should keep your distance from her. Doesn’t sound like the most encouraging of friends to me.” 

Fitz stared at him sadly. Morosely. “But don’t you see? She _was_ that kind of friend to me. For ten bloody years. And then we sank to the bottom of the...and I said what...and now, everything’s _different. I’m_ different. She misses someone that doesn’t...that doesn’t exist anymore.” 

“That’s a pretty steep assumption.” 

“Yeah, well, it’s true,” Fitz muttered stubbornly. 

Mack sighed. 

“She cut her hair.”

Um. _What?_

Mack glanced at him with a questioning look. 

“Jemma,” Fitz said with a tiny hint of a smile. 

“Jemma, that’s...that’s Simmons?” 

The smile disappeared, and Fitz nodded matter-of-factly. “Yes, Simmons. Right.” 

“So what about her - her hair?” Mack could hardly _believe_ he was having this conversation, but if this was a way to help his new friend out, he was more than willing to play along.

“It used to be longer. A lot longer. And it was more - more auburn.” 

“Uh. Auburn?” 

“Yeah,” Fitz’s tone was almost wistful, and _man_ did the poor guy have it bad. “But it looks nice now too. With the blonde in it. Makes her look older. More confident. Pretty.”

“You know it was probably a good look for her then when she was undercover. Might’ve saved her ass even.” 

Fitz nodded slowly. “You know, I didn’t...that’s a good point, Mack.” 

“But you miss the long hair.” 

“Of course I do. It’s hard to get used to such a change in someone I care about.” Mack stared at him with a look of bewilderment. “What?” 

Mack shook his head dismissively. “Nothing.” 

If Fitz couldn’t see what was blatantly staring him in the face, then it definitely wasn’t the right time to bring it up.

-

“I just wanted to thank you for helping Fitz. Well, for - for being his friend.” 

Was she _serious_ right now? Fitz wasn’t some abandoned puppy on the side of the road who needed to be looked after. Or some pubescent adolescent that always got pummeled at the lockers. 

If that’s how she saw him, then it was no _wonder_ their communication was so disjointed. 

But as they continued talking, he found her bravado slip a bit, and spotted tears in her angry eyes when he accused her of making Fitz worse. 

“I know. Why do you think I left?” 

_“There was this girl that I like, and I told her how I felt, and she doesn’t feel the same as I do, so she left.”_

What was this girl’s deal? Did she care about Fitz or not? The last thing the guy needed was for her to play games with him. 

“So, you’re saying that -” 

“I’m _saying_ that you know nothing of me or my feelings or our relationship or what I - what I -” 

_Huh._

Well, that might change things. 

If only they could find a way to actually talk with each other about it. 

He did _not_ sign up for this _Dear Abby_ crap when he agreed to join Coulson’s team.

He was a mechanic. Not a damn love doctor.

-

Check out the entire terse ending to Mack and Jemma’s confrontation in[ That's Not What Happened](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6950593/chapters/16535524). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for AchillesMonkey who was curious about how the conversation started with FitzMack after Simmons left teary-eyed and before she came back with two cups of tea. But then I wanted to explore Mack’s thoughts about the pair even further, so...this turned into more of a thing.


	21. Bribery Will Get You Nowhere

Something soft thwacked Fitz’s backside, and he merely grunted in response, refusing to move from his facedown, stretched out position on the sofa in the common area.

“You’re pathetic.” 

“I beg to differ. Could a pathetic person do this?” 

“What _are_ you doing?” 

“Well, it’s hidden under that blanket you - very rudely, I might add - chucked at me, but I’m flicking you the V sign.” 

“No need to get ugly.” 

“You interrupted my peaceful slumber, Simmons. What do you want?” 

“Are you tired?” 

“Are you _serious_ right now? I _just_ said that -” 

“Not about your stupid nap. I meant - are you just... _tired_?” 

“I don’t...I’d really like to get back to sleeping now, if you don’t -” 

“From the job, I mean.” 

Fitz squinted open an eye to stare at Jemma peering over him. “It’s been a month since we moved to the Bus. What could you possibly -” 

“So, you’re _not_ worn out, then -” 

“No, I’m bloody exhausted.”

Jemma sighed. “Exactly.” She walked closer to where he was sprawled out and lifting his legs, she slid onto the couch, placing his legs back on her lap.

He closed his eyes once more. Instead of feeling annoyed from her proximity, he actually welcomed the extra warmth. She seemed to fit at his side.

It was strange to him how nice it felt.

“We need a holiday.” 

He forgot they were in the middle of a conversation, he was so relaxed. 

“Pardon?” He mumbled half-heartedly.

“ _Fitz_. Don’t you think we deserve a vacation? 

“We just left Hong Kong. Where else could you possibly want us to go right now?” 

“Skegness.” 

Fitz’s eyes flew open, and he lifted his legs off Jemma’s lap, slowly sitting up. 

“That’s quite brilliant, actually.” 

It was the exact opposite of Hong Kong. In every way one place could be from another. Already, his mouth watered, thinking of fish and chips. 

It was rainy. 

It was gloomy. 

It sounded perfect. 

“The only problem is...I’m not sure how to convince Coulson to give us the time off.” Jemma bit her lip worriedly. 

Fitz patted her knee, affectionately. “You just leave that bit to me. I know just the thing.” 

“Deal.” 

Fitz did _not_ appreciate the skepticism in her tone. He’d show her, he would. And he’d gloat about it over fish and chips, taking in the English beachside. 

-

“The answer’s ‘no’, Agent Fitz.” 

“But, _sir_ , I really think that -”

“I can’t afford to have both you and Agent Simmons on vacation. You’re too vital to the team.” 

“I don’t understand. We just finished the Magic Window for you, we successfully pulled off that mission in Hong Kong...what could possibly be on the horizon?” 

“Hard to say, but I think there are some areas that are still experiencing after effects from the Battle of New York.” 

“ _Okay_ , but surely you guys can handle that without us.”

“The answer’s ‘no’, Agent Fitz.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

-

“What on earth are you doing?” 

“You don’t think she needs a good scrub?” Fitz paused, the sponge a few centimeters away from the car. 

Jemma smirked. “You’re still trying to get us vacation time, aren’t you?” 

“It’s your bloody fault for mentioning Skegness,” Fitz muttered.

Jemma raised an eyebrow. “Does he know you’re about to -” 

“ _Don’t touch Lola.”_

FitzSimmons spun around to find Coulson staring darkly at Fitz. 

“But, _sir_ ,” Fitz protested. “I think she’s due for a nice wash, don’t you -”

“If this is about vacation, the answer’s still ‘no’, Agent Fitz.”

“Copy that, sir.” 

Jemma only snickered once Coulson left that garage. 

“I was just trying to get us some time away,” Fitz sighed glumly. 

Jemma took his hand, squeezing gently. “I know. And it was very thoughtful, Fitz. But Coulson’s right. We have a duty here. And besides, I think Coulson has a new mission for us.”

Fitz cleaned up the area around Lola, placing the sponges back in the bucket and dumping the water out in a nearby drain. “Yeah, he mentioned that.” 

Jemma smiled, leading him away from the flying convertible, taking his hand again. “Come on, then. Let’s go work on the Night Night Gun. You know Ward will have something more to say about it.” 

“Right, you are,” Fitz had to agree. “But mark my words, Simmons. I will get us that vacation. Just you wait and see.” 

Jemma rolled her eyes. “Yes, yes, of course you will.” 

-

And several days later, as he sat in his room, clutching his pillow tightly, their excursion to Skegness became the very least of his concerns. 

How on earth could he dwell on such a small piece of sandy shore when he was still reeling from almost losing his whole world? 

-

Check out [What's Best](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6950593/chapters/16599478) for some firsthand present-day angst in the same episode this anecdote was mentioned. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for AchillesMonkey who heard that little quip from Fitz after seeing Mack’s “innocent” Lola model, and a prompt was born!


	22. Something Magnificent

She had May’s life-threatening wounds to attend to and was frightened by the hostile takeover, but she was also thankful Fitz was in the hatch in with her. They were together. They were safe. 

For now.

And she held onto that bit of peace as she mixed together the catalyst and as he located a cloth for May. 

And a few seconds later, when she heard the broken English of one Elena Rodriguez, she exhaled gratefully, exchanging a brief glance with Fitz, his eyes sharing her sentiments. 

They were safe. They were together. 

They were going home.

-

She knew. She knew she was an odd bird. She knew that even before she and Fitz got to work, performing an autopsy (assuming he was actually dead).

But she was actually - and this is where others - including Fitz - would dub her the odd bird she was - almost enjoying herself.

_Almost._

Because she was working in the lab with her best friend in the world - and also someone more than that - right beside her, and he may have been lamenting about a stolen hour of peace, but she -

It was strange. And perhaps a bit foolish. 

But she was practically content with the looming danger and uncertainty of loosened loyalty, because she was working with _Fitz_ as if things hadn’t changed drastically between them, because they were seamlessly a pair again, and he was grumbling and growing melodramatic, and it was - 

It was _nice_. 

They were in this weird, pleasant, limbo in their relationship where they were pseudo-dating, holding hands sometimes or gazing at each other a bit longer than platonic standards, and she was content with that, but she also wanted so much more. 

So if they perhaps flirted a bit while performing a dangerous autopsy, then who was she to argue? 

And then, of _course_ , he had to be the sweetest man in the whole world by paying her a sincere compliment that warmed her down to her hazmat suit covered toes.

_They’re lucky to have you._

He didn’t get it yet, did he? 

No matter. She’d find a way to - 

Her thoughts turned to the matter at hand, as she stared at a very strange, very abnormal brain. 

“ _Fitz.”_

-

And then the grenade went off, and all she saw was dust and rocks and _pain_  and she was fearful for her life and fearful for Fitz’s until she heard him grunt, and _he was alive_ and if she hadn’t had the wind knocked out of her, she would’ve exhaled in relief.

And Fitz once again came to her defense, breaking the grasp Lincoln had on her, detecting her discomfort, and _really_ , the chivalry was unnecessary but still appreciated.

-

Jemma wondered at her part in all this. In Joey’s reluctance to stay with S.H.I.E.L.D., and it pained her that the team’s actions had hurt him. 

He didn’t ask for this. He was trying to harness his new superpowers, and he didn’t ask for the mistrust and accusations.

_I’m trying to help._

Lincoln’s words haunted her now. 

And she knew Joey really was trying to help, but their actions were certainly warranted, because Lincoln was the double agent, and they had no choice, right? 

Still.

Joey’s words cut her deeper than she would’ve thought.

So it was then that she resolved to find a cure. To help her friends. 

Because inhuman or no, they deserved her protection. 

-

They followed Coulson’s orders from earlier once Fitz had approached her with the suggestion of working in his bunk. They _were_ supposed to lay low, right? 

She readily agreed. 

-

They sat down on the floor, leaning against his bed, spreading out their tools and data and samples, wishing they could both be in the lab.

His bunk was not a viable substitute, and they felt powerless.

But she - she also felt, well, _really_ , his shoulder was right there, and it looked _so_ inviting, and she was weary from the day and couldn’t fight what steadily continued to brew between them, and his shoulder was _right there_ , so she took advantage of not being in the lab and rested her head on him, reaching for his hand, wondering how he would react. 

He stiffened at first. 

She expected as much, but she was so damn tired, and his shoulder was just _really_ comfortable, and she had no intention of moving, so she remained against him. 

And then he murmured softly into her hair, placing a kiss there, resting his head on hers. 

It was - it was _perfect_ , but not _enough_ , so she placed her other hand on their conjoined ones, wanting more contact. Wanting to _feel_ -

More and more they seemed to meld into each other. He completely relaxed against her. It was - it was a beautiful moment. 

But she could just _feel_ his eyes on her when he lifted his head slightly, and his gaze into _her_ eyes was just _intoxicating_ , and then his darkened eyes flickered down, and she gave into her desire, and he gave into his desire, and they both gave in as if - as if some gravitational force was gently guiding them towards each other, and his lips upon hers were just the _most -_ they were - 

**_Home._ **

He broke apart from her, and she felt the loss already, but not for long, because _he -_

It was a kiss she merely _dreamed_ about once she had finally allowed herself to become completely and irreversibly attuned to her feelings. 

The way his lips just like - they _caressed_ hers and yet it was full of passion and this was a kiss that was continuing to _deepen_ \- a separate one from their prior kisses, and she _never_ wanted to - 

He broke away from the blissful exchange. And _that_ losswas a bit harder to recover from, because before she could think properly again, her lips chased his, the separation too much already. 

But then he starts _apologizing_ of all things, and _really_ , did this man have an unchivalrous bone in his body, because his reasoning was - 

She wasn’t some bloody countess he was courting. 

She _wanted_ him. And his _sorry_ swere completely ridiculous. 

And _yet_. He was just - the amount of respect he held for her and Will’s relationship was just mind-boggling, and an overflowing amount of affection for him coursed through her to where she could feel it in her smile and and in her eyes and in her whole being, but she _had_ to set him straight. 

It wasn’t too fast. 

They didn’t need to take things slow anymore. 

She loved him, and he loved her, and why were they so foolish to ignore those two important - 

There was so _much_ weight in their evolving relationship, and she could tell he carried it all on his shoulders, and _really_ \- why on _earth_ were they still _waiting_ when she loved him and he loved her and they loved each other and they were safe and they were together and _what was stopping them **this** time?_

“We can’t waste anymore time.” She pleaded with him, grasping his hands, begging for him to understand. 

No more walls.

No more barriers.

No more _sorry_ s.

She lightly teased him about his cursed declaration, and he fired back good-naturedly, and she tightened her hold on his hand. 

He was not going to brush her off this time. He was not going to make an excuse for her feelings. He was going to _listen._

He was going to finally see how deep her devotion to him truly and incandescently ran. 

“I’m tired of seeing our friends ripped apart from each other. That can’t happen to us again. I won’t let it.” 

Had he understood? 

_She wouldn’t let it._

His eyes grew softer with every word she said, and it was as if a - 

He _did_ understand. 

“Then we won’t let it.” 

They were first Leopold Fitz and Jemma Simmons and then Fitz and Simmons and then FitzSimmons and then Simmons without Fitz and now - now _finally_ \- they were becoming something different. Something else. Something more than FitzSimmons.

Something better.

And there was something in his gaze that showed her that whatever they were to be - whatever they would face - they would face it together.

He was ready to be with her. 

Fully. 

Completely. 

And it stunned her and terrified her and strengthened her and elated her.

So then of course, he had to compare her to the universe, as something _magnificent_ , and with anyone else it would’ve been entirely too much, and even with him, she scoffed a bit, until his relenting gaze persuaded her to concede, because they were sitting against his bed, in a stolen hour of peace, and really, who was she to criticize his endearing nature, so she leaned in, eagerly anticipating his lips on hers again, when he - 

How she could experience so many emotions all at once was a mystery. Because she was balancing love and affection and want and slight exasperation for his bad joke and impatience because she _really_ wanted to kiss him again and - and - 

**_Joy._ **

So much love and joy and affection that bubbled through her that she could hardly contain herself, cutting Fitz’s ridiculous rambling off with her lips.

She gasped into his mouth when he grabbed her waist, pulling her towards him, steadying her.

They just stayed like that.

Against his bed. Trading kisses. Beginning this terrifying, exhilarating new step together. 

Her hands stayed on his face and neck, the feel of his stubble deliciously inviting, and his hands roamed all over her, and his eagerness was _so_ - 

It was a quiet sort of satisfaction to know that she drove him about as mad as he drove her. 

They were beginning to deepen their kisses, breaking apart for air and then diving right back in. 

She felt his tongue, and she opened her mouth, willing him to explore - 

She could barely think straight, the kissing was so - and she had never felt more at - 

She shivered in delight as his hands steadily made their way up her body, each new touch awakening more passion. More pleasure. 

They were both breathing hard, catching their breath after each new kiss.

And then their kisses slowed a bit, and they just reveled in the simplicity. 

Her hands slid down to gently grip the wrists that tenderly cupped her face, letting him take the lead. 

And when he sucked on her top lip and then did the same to her bottom one, she couldn’t hold back her moans of ecstasy. 

 _God_ , he was sensual.

She wanted _more_. 

So she deepened the kiss, her tongue in his eager mouth, his fingers threading in her hair, her hands sliding to his chest.

Resting on his beating heart.

At the same moment, they broke apart, her eyes closed, not wanting to - but when she finally did open - what she saw was - 

He was staring at her in wonder - with elation - with a look of such contentment that she had never - 

Their breathing became less ragged, and he unthreaded his fingers from her hair to grasp the ones splayed on his chest. They just - they gazed at each other - holding hands, his thumb moving back and forth, stroking her hand softly.

And then - as they - once what they had just done registered -

At the same moment - in a perfect example of their psychic link -

They burst out laughing.

“You’re telling me,” Fitz began, once he recovered a bit. “We could’ve been doing that -”

“The whole time, yes.” Was it truly possible for her to be this happy? Did she look ridiculous with her permanent grin etched on her face? 

She couldn’t be bothered to care. 

“Because that - that was -” Fitz stammered. 

His mind appeared to be about as foggy as hers.

“My sentiments exactly.”

“You know - as much as I hate to -” Fitz gave her a purposefully dramatic, smoldering look that threw her in hysterics again. “We should probably get back to -”

“-helping our friends. You’re right.”

He sighed, slinging an arm around her shoulder, and he leaned in, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“We’ll continue this later,” he breathed huskily, his lips tickling her with each word. It gave her a sensation she immediately wanted to relive. 

So she reached up, stroking his face, channeling her sexuality by pecking his lips in a whisper of a kiss, before trailing them to his ear.

“I’m counting on it.” 

Fitz groaned.

What did he expect after hearing that _voice_ and feeling his lips move against her? 

She refused to be the only one light-headed from that brief moment. 

“You can’t just do that and then expect for us to - we have work to do, Simmons.”

Jemma batted her eyelashes. Innocent. “I assure you that I have not a clue as to what you’re referring.”

He simply shook his head in response. 

A thrill of anticipation ran through her as she thought about the next time they could - 

They had work to do. 

It was time to focus.

But his arm remained around her shoulder, and she nestled a bit more in his side, and that was that. 

-

And after four minutes of brainstorming and coming up short on how to save their inhuman friends from the likes of Hive, she felt him shift around, and she turned with him to see dust pouring on his bed. 

Her heart began to pound in her chest.

“It’s - it’s Daisy.” Jemma said. Stunned.

The rumble grew louder, and Fitz moved quickly, encompassing Jemma in his arms, shielding her from any flying debris.

After the initial quake, his hold on her loosened, and she glanced up at him, his eyes swimming with a dozen emotions. 

“What is it?” Jemma asked gently.

“We’re going to stop Hive,” Fitz muttered darkly. “And we’re going to save Daisy.”

And it - his unwavering loyalty to his friend, his confidence, his _determination_ - 

She must’ve been staring at him for a considerable amount of time, because he started to look a bit unnerved.

“What?” 

She reached up, placing a kiss on his parted lips, her arms tightening around his middle. 

He enfolded her in his arms again, even when she broke away.

“Not that I’m complaining or anything, but -” 

“Do you even realize how - you said before that our friends were lucky to have me. _We’re_ the ones who are lucky, Fitz.” 

“Don’t be daft. You were thinking the same thing.” 

Jemma nodded, tears in her throat. “I was. But -” 

“Stop making me out to be the only one who -” 

Jemma shook her head in wonder. “You still don’t get it, do you? I meant what I said a lifetime ago when we were sitting on your bed in your bunk on the Bus. _You’re_ the hero, Fitz.” 

Fitz stood up, letting go of her, and he started to brush the dust off his bed. 

“So you can call _Will_ a hero, but when _I_ -” 

Fitz spun around to face her sharply.

“Do you not understand? There’s nothing _heroic_ about my actions. I couldn’t _function_ without you.” 

Her breath caught, and she trembled from the intensity of his gaze. 

“And you think I could?” She said in a soft voice after a few moments. 

And then they were in each other’s arms again, their lips moving against each other frantically. 

She allowed herself to be swept away for another minute.

Or two. 

Or three.

And then their hold on each other relaxed, their lips parting, and they rested against each other, their foreheads touching. 

“Let’s go help Daisy.” Fitz murmured. 

Their conversation was far from over. But she nodded against him. They lifted their heads, and she smoothed out his rumpled shirt, while he fixed her hair.

She caught his eye, and they smiled in a conspiratorial manner, agreeing through unspoken words that this new _development_ should be kept secret. 

For now.

-

They found May who hastily recounted what happened to Coulson and said he would hold a meeting in the A.M. to debrief the team and relay next steps.

“In the meantime, go get some sleep, FitzSimmons.” 

-

He walked her to his bunk as if their entire base wasn’t just attacked and they were returning from a dinner date.

“And what will you do? Your bunk is pretty much in shambles right now.” 

She almost wanted to invite him to hers. But it seemed in poor taste after what just happened. 

_Still._

She wasn’t about to send him away if _he_ suggested it.

“I’m gonna crash on the sofa in the common area. Don’t think I’ll be getting much sleep anyway. Considering.”

“Yeah,” Jemma agreed. “Considering.” She wondered if he simply meant Daisy. 

She didn’t. 

His eyes were warm. “Make sure you get lots of rest though, okay?” 

Jemma could only nod from the tenderness.

Fitz looked to his left and right, and when he appeared satisfied, he pulled her to him, his lips gentle on hers. 

“Goodnight,” Fitz whispered, letting go.

“Goodnight,” she whispered back. 

He reached for her hand, holding it for a moment, and then walked away, heading towards the common area. 

The very notion of sleep was incomprehensible. 

Or so she thought, because the moment her head hit her pillow, she surrendered to the blissful comfort of her subconscious.

And dreamed of her Fitz the entire night.

-

Check out Fitz’s perspective in  **[Who Needs Space?](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6950593/chapters/17318485)**. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For a sweet anon who requested Jemma’s perspective in this episode.


	23. With Your Head Down

Before she could talk herself out of it, she yanked the phone to her ear, inserted the appropriate amount of change and dialed the number that now became to familiar to her.

Coulson’s encrypted line.

It was just - 

That _video_ Coulson sent her a couple of weeks ago. 

She saw him. 

He could string more words together, and he was _smiling_ , and - 

She had to know. 

She also had to update Coulson on her assignment, so it wasn’t like she was calling for...

_Well._

She _needed_ to make the call, right? For the good of S.H.I.E.L.D.. For the good of -

_“Yeah?”_

“Calling to update, sir.” 

_“Whenever you’re ready, agent.”_

She knew he was protecting her. By not saying her name. But the generality of his address still stung.

There was a time before Hydra and being trapped at the bottom of the ocean and witnessing Fitz’s regression and decisions to leave the team when he even called her _Jemma_.

That wasn’t to be expected now. 

She filled him in on her progress at Hydra. He remained silent, and she wondered if she was disappointing him with her slow advancement.

“I understand it’s not _ideal_ yet, sir, but I’m confident -” 

_“The ideal part of it is that you remain safe, Simmons.”_

Her heart warmed. It was like he knew she needed him to recognize her as more than a faceless agent right then. He threw out protocol briefly - to say what he did, and she was never more grateful to serve such a kind director.

She took the stolen moment of familiarity to bring up what she swore she wouldn’t. 

“Thank you for the birthday greeting, sir.”  

The several moments of silence unnerved Jemma. She knew Coulson understood what - and whom - she was going to mention. 

He had to. 

_“If that’s your entire update, then we need to -”_

“The video you sent. Does that mean he’s - _well_  - is he getting -” 

“ _ **Jemma**_.” 

Apparently, her question warranted another breach in protocol. 

She didn’t care. 

She _needed_ to know. 

“It’s just that he was so _articulate,_ and I’m wondering if -” 

_“That’s enough. He’s on the mend. Worry about yourself now.”_

“Sir, _please_.” 

She heard Coulson sigh on the other end. 

“I just want _something_ \- that _video_  -” 

_“He misses you.”_

Jemma’s breath caught. 

_If he only knew._

“Does he,” Jemma paused before bravely continuing. “Does he know why I left?” 

Her voice was small. Wavering. 

_“The most important thing is that you do what you can to fulfill the assignment on your end. He’s in good hands here.”  
_

“ _Sir_ , I just -” 

 _“Sorry. That’s all I can give you.”_ He cut her off. She knew the call was ending soon, and tears sprung to her eyes as she anticipated being separated from the team once more. He encouraged her to keep trying to advance in her division without calling attention to herself. 

“I’ll do my best, sir.” 

_“And, hey. Only use the dead drop from now on. There aren’t enough pay phones left in the country.”_

“Understood, sir.” 

But she was only met with the dial tone. 

-

_“Happy Birthday, Jemma!”  
_

_“Happy Birthday, Jemma. It’s not the same without you here. Say ‘hi’ to your parents for me, and I’ll see you soon.”  
_

The video played on a continual loop in her darkened flat. 

_“...I’ll see you soon.”_

She brought a finger to his pixelated face, _wishing_ she - 

_He misses you._

It was nice to hear she was missed. But it also brought her a deep sense of longing. 

She missed him too. 

And she wondered when she would see him again. 

Because she _wasn’t_ advancing as quickly in Hydra. The job was far from over. 

_“...I’ll see you soon.”_

When would that be specifically? 

She was just - she was so very lonely. 

And she missed her best friend in the world so much she could barely stand it. 

_He misses you._

Was that really all he could tell her? Didn’t she deserve to know more?

Wasn’t she _entitled_ to know more about her - _her -_

No. 

She gave that up when she left. 

Coulson warned her that there would be virtually no contact. 

And she would be told very little. 

But on nights like that one, it stung profusely to be cut off from the group.

From him.

But Coulson needed to know that she was still unwavering in her decision.

In her commitment to the task at hand.

So she resolved to be unbiased and objective in her questioning next time.

So as not to seem emotionally invested. 

So as not to seem wrong for the job,

And if Coulson wanted to share with her new information about Fitz?

She’d let him. 

-

Check out Fitz’s first introduction to Supportive Simmons in [All I Can Hear Is You](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6950593/chapters/16427446)and May's assessment of the two in [It's As Good As Can Be Expected](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7667776/chapters/17694469). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for FitzSimmonsForLife who totally caught Coulson on the phone in the episode “Shadows” and realized he was talking to Jemma, and I had no idea until she brought it to light!


	24. It's a Science Hunch

It was a clever plan between the two. He and Anon. A plan they’ve executed countless times in countless ways. A plan to separate the wheat from the chaff. If these two scientists - so they said - wanted to meet with him and pitch a new innovation to him, then they bloody well should know to distinguish between the human and... _not_.

So he waited on the patient chair, his eye held open and caught a first look at the couple that had Anon a bit on edge.

_“They were young. They were a bit too smooth. I’m not sure if introducing their product is their actual intent.”  
_

They walked in, looking far less self-assured than Anon presented them.

“I’m not sure we understand.” The woman said uneasily, trying to appear calm.

After Anon explained to them what they would do, the pair started to get a bit... _well_.

“Surgery. You want us to remove -”

“And replace it with...”

Suddenly any bravado they currently possessed was gone. As so many before them. But something about their voices. About _them_ drew him in more and more. And he held a bit of hope that they would agree to proceed.

And then the man pulled the woman aside, his hand on the small of her back (Radcliffe noticed once they were in his line of sight). And he could just make out a couple of phrases.

_...extremely unethical...._

_...for our employer..._

_...it’s decided...._

And before he knew it, the two were gearing up to perform the surgery. And this was the final test.

One that the woman passed with flying colors.

By stabbing him in the eye.

An unanticipated reaction.

He lifted himself up, took out the needle, and revealed himself to the couple.

They really were quite an attractive pair.

The woman was justifiably frustrated. He explained his reasoning. His mantra.

**_Art and science are entwined._ **

And that’s when things escalated exponentially. He was surprised but not shocked to discover their employer. Disappointed but not devastated.

Anon took the hint to call for reinforcements.

The pair struggled against them, trying to get to the other.

And then the man - _Finn_? - he was pretty sure that was the name the woman had screamed - resisted and flooded Radcliffe’s mind with visions of alien soil and inhumans and before he could **_blink_** - 

-

He didn’t forget the two of them while he was under Hive’s control. If only he had believed them earlier - he wouldn’t have created the primitive race. Something he was incredibly ashamed about. A race that distorted the usually beautiful union between art and science. 

Thankfully, a guardian angel in the form of a skilled, combative Asian woman rescued him. All he had to know was that she was from S.H.I.E.L.D.. 

 _The good guys -_ as it were. 

-

“Remember us?” 

And there they were. Looking confident and calm and the littlest bit smug. 

And the more he worked with the pair, the more he found he really, _really_ liked them. 

 _Ah_ , but the things he could teach them. Could _show_ them. 

The brilliant potential that existed between the pair. 

Quite the power couple, they were. 

“I’ve told you - just like I told that fearsome general and your fearless leader - the changes cannot be reversed. I’m afraid there’s no way -” 

“There’s _always_ another way,” The young Scotsman - _why did he seem so familiar?_  - cut in passionately. 

“Oh, you don’t think I’ve exhausted _every_ avenue in finding one? You don’t think that I -” 

“Just let us look over the formula.” He could tell the girl was growing impatient, so he merely nodded, and the three of them set about poring over the data of something now ingrained in his brain. 

The very thing that haunted him night and day. 

The very thing that confirmed his identity as a mad scientist. 

As a Frankenstein.

He didn’t have the heart to continue to argue. 

He knew the very morbid, very unfortunate truth. 

There was nothing to be done.

-

And when he saw the hand? 

Remarkable.

Realistic.

Nearly perfect.

And Coulson showed him the working model? 

The man had had a prosthetic the entire time.

Fitz. A _genius._

Simmons. Saved them from the primitives through cleverness.

The two of them - they were...

_Something magnificent._

_-_

So after the horrifying events aboard Zephyr One - he waited a week or so - wanted to ensure - 

Wanted to show some respect. 

He really was a decent guy. He needed them to see that side of him. He was quite sure their impression of him was dismal at best. 

And he could finally surmise why he recognized Fitz. 

He waited a week or so until he approached them. 

“What say you to us three working together?” 

They were skeptical. Had seen his... _work_. 

But his sincerity had apparently shown through to the point where they slowly exchanged glances, their movement in perfect symmetrical harmony. 

“What did you have in mind?” Fitz asked cautiously.

_Brilliant._

_-_

And thus began a beautiful partnership. 

Whatever visions and lofty aspirations Radcliffe had, Fitz could execute with perfection. 

It was a sign. 

Him meeting his former acquaintance’s son. 

It was a sign to reconvene working on his lifelong pipe dream.

To turn the dream into a mind-numbingly fascinating reality.

To introduce the world to - 

 _ **Aida**_. 

-

Read Fitz’s perspective during “Ascension” and beyond in [So, What Now? ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6950593/chapters/17435902)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for AchillesMonkey who requested something from Radcliffe’s perspective, and I am absolutely willing to oblige, because Radcliffe is sorta the best.


	25. No Lab Coats on This One

_Jemma’s long eyelashes brushing his cheek as she kissed it again and again..._

_Jemma’s nose nuzzling his own after a particularly intense snog..._

_Jemma’s hand holding his hand and then his neck and then his face..._

_Jemma’s hair wonderfully mused from affection and want..._

_Jemma’s perfect freckles begging to be examined and studied and kissed..._

_Jemma’s eyes that lit up with l-l-l-_ love _for him and joy and fierce determination to never be parted from him again..._

_Jemma’s lips..._

_Jemma’s soft, pillowy, red, perfect lips on his lips and on his cheek and on his earlobe and on his jaw and everywhere and back on his lips..._

“Shall we do it, then?” 

_“Excuse me?”_

Fitz stared at her hard, wondering why she was so flippant in her proposition. Because it was something he had been wrestling with bringing up ever since...well... _last night_. 

“Lucio’s samples. Shall we start examining them?” 

_Oh._

_Right._

“Yeah. Let’s take a look.” 

They were in the lab - having put it back together that morning after Daisy’s dramatic departure - studying and piecing together everything they could about the swayed inhumans before they were to depart on Zephyr One. 

They got rather - _sidetracked_ \- from it the night before (which _okay_ , wasn’t the most proactive course of action, but _really_  they were stuck in a bunk instead of a lab anyway, so what could they really do?), so it was imperative they knew what they were dealing with before they could rescue their friend.

And what they found? 

ICERs were no match for the likes of the infected.

_Oh boy._

_-_

“You two are taking point.” 

_Um._

Given the recent events that transpired between them, was Coulson really suggesting that _they_...

Coulson didn’t know. 

Of course.

“I’ll send Mack with you to run back-end.” 

_Ah._

-

They rented out a swanky hotel room, setting up camp and debriefing Mack on their plans. 

And true to their word, they had brought something a bit more fitting for a “high-class establishment” as Mack so eloquently put it.

_Dress the part_ , indeed.

He took a shower, washing the dust and grime and sweat and a bit of blood that had sort of caked over from the previous night. 

The steam helped cleanse his mind as well. He had embarrassed himself with her earlier, stumbling over his words, not quite knowing how to address the very real possibility of them having sex. 

And then she had to say it point blank.

In front of _everyone_. 

Granted, she said it quietly, but _still_. She couldn’t say that - that _word_ \- without getting some sort of reaction. 

As awkward as it was, the fact that she - you know - actually vocalized it...she was thinking about it, too.

Mission or no, he resolved to clear the air regarding _that_ once and for all. 

-

He stepped out of the bathroom in a clean t-shirt and jeans, running a towel through his wet hair, and bumped into Jemma, holding her duffle to her tightly. 

“Sorry.” 

She didn’t say anything back. And instead, stood in place. 

Staring at him. 

It was a tad unnerving. 

And maybe a bit of a confident boost. 

“J-Jemma?” 

Hearing her name must’ve snapped her back to reality, because she chuckled nervously before shuffling past him.

“You two are -” 

“I dare you to finish that sentence.” Fitz narrowed his eyes at Mack, busy setting up their temporary base.

He didn’t.

-

Fitz used the bedroom space to change into the suit he brought, lifting up his collar to fix his tie. 

He took a look in the mirror on the dresser. 

He looked sharp.

Confident.

_Handsome_ even. 

“Clean up nice, Turbo.” 

“Why do you sound so surprised?” 

Mack sighed. “You’re still mad about the lab coat comment, aren’t you?” 

“...No.” 

“Yeah, yeah. You two really need to get over it.” 

“Get over what?” 

Jemma opened the door to the bathroom, her hands on her hips, staring Mack down. 

Which was convenient, because Fitz took the liberty to stare _her_ down as excessively as he pleased. 

She was _gorgeous_. 

She was striking in a leather trousers/red blazer combination with a jeweled blouse giving her a sort of femme fatale look. 

Her hair was in soft curls, and her eyes were darkened with makeup, and her lips were - 

They were _dangerously_ red. 

She was just -

_Ow._

A sharp jab from Mack’s elbow helped break him out of his stupor.

“That’s a smart look, Fitz. I like the suit.” 

Fitz smiled shyly at his girlfriend. She _was_ his girlfriend, right? Another thing they probably needed to discuss. 

“Well, I always say no look is complete without a pair of specs.” He tapped his glasses pointedly, and Jemma rolled her eyes. 

“When have you ever said that?” 

“And here I thought you’ve been listening to me for the past twelve years.” 

-

After the final confirmation that their comms and the video recording component of his glasses were running smoothly, he followed Jemma out of the hotel room, his hand at the small of her back. 

It was time to catch a Scotsman. 

-

Geez Louise, do I have a lot of fics from this episode! Pick an hour you're doing nothing and check these out: 

 

Fitz's POV during the rest of the...night: [Change Becomes Exponential ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7667776/chapters/17482855)

Jemma's POV during those...same events: [As We Deviate from That Path](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6950593/chapters/17340403)

Our long-suffering agent Mack's POV: [This Will Go on All Night](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7667776/chapters/17461177)

The "omnipotent" (also semi-shipping FitzSimmons) Hive's POV: [I'm Doom ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7667776/chapters/18390232)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for TashxTARDIS who requested a scene of them getting gussied up for their mission. Couldn’t resist adding additional scenes!


	26. Yeah, I Figured

_“No. I’m not leaving you here!”_

_What the..._

Will’s eyes flew open. It was - well, he had been on the planet for more than a decade by himself, and even though it had been a couple months since capturing Jemma, it was still something to get used to. 

Waking up to another voice. 

_“Fitz! No! **NO!** ” _

He rushed out of his cot, making a beeline for hers. Jemma was moving frantically, muttering incoherently, her cheeks wet. 

“Jemma.” He spoke lowly, not wanting to startle her. 

“ _No_...no, the ocean...a new plan, Fitz. We need a...” 

“ _Jemma.”_ Will’s tone was firmer. A bit louder. He shook her shoulder gently, and her eyes finally snapped open, staring at him in confusion. He watched her as she continued to stare and then slowly looked around her, her shallow breaths becoming steadier. 

“ _Will.”_ She grasped his arm, and Will’s breath hitched at the touch.

It was definitely no big secret to him. 

His feelings.

He had been alone for so long, so when he found her - this wonderfully resilient, beautiful British scientist - 

 _Well._  The only thing he had a hard time figuring out was if it was the isolation that drew out his feelings or something else. Something about _her_. 

He wasn’t sure. 

But he certainly didn’t have a prayer with... _any_ of it. Not when he just caught her muttering _his_ name over and over again. 

Certainly not then.

-

They were sitting side-by-side on the floor, taking a small break from researching how to get home.

He still couldn’t believe it. 

He actually had a _chance_ to escape this hellhole and go _**home**. _

He had to keep reminding himself. Reminding himself of the _hope_ this brave, gorgeous scientist brought with her.

Brought to him.

“So...” Will started slowly. He didn’t want to disrupt the peaceful equilibrium that had settled between the two of them. But she looked _so_...he had to know. “Are you gonna tell me what all that was about back there, or am I gonna have to guess?” 

Jemma fixed him with a confused look, which meant he had to spell it out for her. 

Will sighed.

He _really_ didn’t want to recount last night’s events.

“You know. I woke you up from a nightmare. And I was thinking...that you - you looked like you were - the way you held onto me after...it looked like you were reliving a memory.” 

Jemma wouldn’t look at him, as she spoke softly. “I know it may be hard for you to believe, but being swept here wasn’t my first brush with death.” 

Will chuckled. “You don’t say.” 

“There was... _one_ time above all the others...” 

Will raised an eyebrow to that. “ _All_ the others?” 

Jemma nodded emphatically. “I told you. There have been countless, _numerous_ close calls I’ve encountered in the field.” 

“Okay, I guess I get that. You were saying...?” 

“Right.” Jemma looked down again. “Fitz and I were trapped together in a storage pod. On the bottom of the ocean. No food. No water. Left for dead, really.” 

“How did you get -” 

“Doesn’t matter. I’m sure I’ll tell you all about it eventually. We’ve got - well, time _is_ on our side for getting to know each other better, wouldn’t you say?” 

Will laughed mirthlessly. “ _Yeah,_ Mick Jagger. We’ve got nothing but time.” 

Jemma rolled her eyes. “May I?” 

Will shrugged, wordlessly gesturing for her to continue.

“Fitz and I...we...we couldn’t fathom...until he and I devised a plan. A plan for the window to cave in so that we could escape.” 

“But you were still on the -” 

“Getting there. _Patience_.” 

“Sorry.” 

“As you so hastily pointed, we were still on the bottom of the sea - without oxygen. So Fitz, _he_ \- well, he rigged a contraption to force one, large blast of oxygen into one’s lungs. One breath.” 

She still wouldn’t meet his eyes.

She still wouldn’t meet his eyes, and Will understood. 

“He gave the breath to you.” 

It wasn’t a question. Merely a statement. A fact. 

Of _course_ he did.

Jemma scoffed. “More like _insisted_. More like _made_ me.” 

“He gave the breath to you,” Will repeated. 

“ _Yes._ ”

“He loves you,” Will said slowly. 

Jemma’s cheeks colored. “I suppose he - he’s my best friend, you know, and it’s like I told you before. We were inseparable.” 

“ _Jemma._ ” 

“All that matters right now, Will, is that you and I figure out a way to get back home. That’s it.” 

“Whatever you say, Professor.” 

-

He thought about them. Alone on his cot. 

He was definitely falling for her. And whether she was falling for him or not didn’t really matter. 

He had a pretty clear idea that she was in love with someone else anyway. 

And - right then and there - he resolved he would do whatever he could to ensure she made it back to him.

Back to Fitz.

Even if it cost him his life to do so.

He owed her that much.

For bringing back hope. 

-

Check out Jemma’s POV during this time by reading [That's a Little Bit More than a Best Friend](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7223809) and Fitz’s reaction after hearing Jemma’s story by reading [I Understand Everything](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6950593/chapters/17053062). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for the lovely anon that pitched the idea of Jemma dreaming of the pod incident and telling Will all about it. So, of course I had to write it in Will’s POV. Because. Ugh. He and Fitz are essentially two sides of the same coin, right?


	27. To Shoot Me in the Bloody Head?

“Agent Fitz.” 

“Agent May.” 

May nodded, briefly hesitating before heading to the living quarters on the plane. 

“What was that about?”

Fitz had forgotten he wasn’t alone and looked at Jemma for a moment before popping another pretzel in his mouth, shrugging.

“Oh, come on, Fitz. You have been giving her a bit of a cold shoulder ever since we left the Hub. I know why Coulson’s upset with her, but -”

“She _shot_ me!” 

Jemma sputtered. “Wh... _what_?” 

“I figured out May was using an encrypted line when I was trying to talk to you, and so I cut it, and she tracked me down...and she shot me.” 

Jemma furrowed her eyebrows. “Let me get this straight,” she said through gritted teeth. “You were -” 

“- shot at through the lab’s glass door with an Icer, yes, that’s correct,” Fitz huffed. 

Jemma stared at him for a long while. 

She was probably figuring out to respond after learning of such horrific details.

_Yes. That was it._

“An...” Jemma began slowly. “An Icer?” 

Fitz nodded encouragingly. “ _Yes._ Can you believe it? May has another thing coming, if she _thinks_ -”

“ _Fitz_.” 

“What?” 

“Don’t _do_ that!” 

Fitz squinted at her. “Sorry. But...em. But, do what?” 

“You really scared me there.” 

“I don’t -”

“It was an _Icer_ , Fitz. Let it go. May’s already in enough hot water with Coulson. Don’t add on to her misery with your petty -” 

“ _Petty_?! I’ll have you know that -” 

“- grudges when we are actually dealing with things far more massive than you and your escapades.” 

Fitz was starting to see red. 

_How_ dare _she?_

“May I remind you that _those_ little escapades, as you call them, were only had, so that I could remain in contact with _you_.” 

“I understand that, Fitz, but it was an _Icer_. You would’ve been just -” 

“It just goes to show...I obviously care more about your wellbeing than you do about mine.” 

“What? That’s - that’s _absolutely_ ridiculous. Why would you say something like that?” 

Fitz knew he was hitting a nerve. But he didn’t know if it was hers or simply just his own.

“You’re making fun of my plight. When _I_ -” 

“Excuse me.” 

Jemma hurriedly brushed past him out of the kitchen.

He almost missed the unshed tears collecting in her eyes.

-

Fitz paced outside her bunk, drudging up the courage to knock on her door.

He knew he was being... _well_. He did, okay? He was definitely projecting. It _was_ a bloody Icer for God’s sakes. 

It’s just...

The door swung open, revealing a weary looking Jemma. 

“I heard you shuffling outside” was the only explanation she gave.

“Can - can I...?” Fitz gestured to the interior of her bunk, and she nodded, scooting to the side, so he could slide past her. 

Given their recent altercation, he chose to stand awkwardly just inside the room. It was weird to act so stiffly in her bunk, but he thought better of anything else just yet.

“I’m sorry,” Fitz said after several long moments.

Jemma sighed, gesturing for him to sit next to her on the bed. 

So he did.

“You really hurt me. What you said...it...”

“I know.” 

“I thought I made it quite clear what you mean to me. I could barely function when I heard you and Garrett in that room. I went mad, Fitz.” 

“I know.” 

“So why, then, would you say you care more about me than I, you?” 

_Because I definitely fucking do._

“I don’t -”

“You’re my best friend, Fitz. In the whole world.” 

“Yeah? Well, you’re -” 

Fitz cut himself off. That was the rub, wasn’t it? He was her best friend in the whole world, but...she _was_ his whole world.

“Look. It was childish of me to pick a fight with you like that. I truly am sorry, Jemma.” 

He chanced a quick peek at her, giving her a tentative smile of surrender. 

“You should ask Trip. He had to pull me back from barging into that room myself.” 

Fitz chuckled, nudging her knee with his.

“Yeah?” Fitz asked sheepishly.

“Yeah. So really, if this was a contest, _I’d_ win. Not you.” 

There was no contest. _None_. But there was no way he wanted to delve into how incredibly wrong she was at that particular moment.

And _so_.

“Agree to disagree?” Fitz held out his hand, and she took it, shaking firmly. 

A truce.

“I still can’t believe May _shot_ you.” 

“ _Thank_ you.” 

And even though Jemma merely rolled her eyes at that, he reveled in the sense of calm that washed over him. 

The fact of the matter was...S.H.I.E.L.D. was Hydra, and Hydra was S.H.I.E.L.D., but _they_ were still FitzSimmons, and really, that was enough.

For now? That was enough.

-

For more scenes from this episode, check out:

[**Heard Everything**](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6950593/chapters/16176826) - Jemma’s inner dialogue while Hand and company literally heard everything.

[**Out of the Shadows**](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7667776/chapters/17636296) - Fitz’s counterpart inner dialogue.

[**All We Have Is Each Other**](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7667776/chapters/17854243) - Jemma and Fitz have a conversation about what transpired at the Hub. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for FitzSimmonsForLife who requested a quick debrief of Fitz and Jemma talking about the events that transpired on the plane before they landed at the Hub.


	28. I Know You Were

It all happened so fast.

The last thing she saw before being thrust into the unforgiving wind was Fitz’s anguished face. 

She could almost hear his screams. She wanted to just stand there and sta-

-

The first thing she felt when she came to was icy, monstrous water, engulfing her. Ward’s arms tightened around her, and his chest was broad and strong, and she had never been more grateful that he was there with her.

She thought she was...

But she wasn’t. 

Her chattering teeth and blue lips were proof of that. 

Her grip on Ward loosened a bit, and he exhaled sharply, struggling to keep her closer to him. 

“I’m...” Jemma began. She wanted to say that she was fine. She didn’t need his rescuing anymore. She was a strong swimmer. 

 _Well_. Stronger than Fitz at least. 

But she was also so... so very, very fatigued. 

Almost dying can really take a lot out of a person, she suspected. 

So she allowed herself to play the damsel in distress a little bit longer. Ward seemed more than capable of keeping her afloat. 

He really was quite something, wasn’t he?

“How you doing, Jemma?” Ward’s voice cut in and out of earshot while they continued to tread the frigid water. 

“Oh, you... know,” Jemma sputtered. “Never better.” 

“I think you mean ‘never wetter’.” 

_Really?_

But the man did just save her life. 

So she chuckled anyway.

-

It wasn’t until seventeen minutes later when she and Ward were fished out of the sea. The Mediterranean Sea, she learned. 

A S.H.I.E.L.D. rescue boat steered by a Moroccan agent arrived, and before she knew it, she and Ward both were huddled in blankets, awaiting their team to pick them up.

She didn’t say much. She didn’t know if she was being rude, but she also contracted a virus that almost killed everyone she had grown to become rather fond of, so she found herself caring very little about decorum. 

When the Bus hovered over the boat, and Coulson climbed down the rope ladder, she almost cried from sheer relief. 

Because in her mind, when she stood next to Fitz, and they both witnessed that third rat levitating...

She just...

She saw her day going a lot differently.

-

After a twelve minute argument between Coulson and the level eight Moroccan agent on the boat, she and Ward were given the go ahead to return to the Bus. 

_Finally._

_-_

The minute the three of them made it back on the Bus, Coulson stared both Ward and her down and said, “Get yourselves cleaned up and changed. Meet back in my office in twenty minutes.” 

Apparently, her debrief was not up for discussion. 

She turned away from the two men and saw Fitz out of the corner of her eye, hanging back, his arms crossed, his eyebrows furrowed. 

She walked towards him, reaching for him -

“Twenty minutes, Simmons. Get a move on.” 

She bristled from Coulson’s tone and surmised that he wouldn’t appreciate her using some of that time to spend it with her best friend. 

Fitz nodded in understanding, motioning for her to head towards her bunk.

So she did. 

And the glimpse of his red-rimmed eyes haunted her every step. 

-

Her hair was halfway dry from their stint on the boat and the open sea air, but she blow-dried her damp locks, almost passing out from the sheer ecstasy of the heat. She hurriedly ran a brush through her hair and then put on a bit of makeup, wanting to look as healthy and alien virus-free as possible. 

She changed into a fresh pair of knickers and clean bra and pulled on some jeans and a button-down. 

She was four minutes late to the debrief. 

She didn’t think that her late arrival tampered with Coulson’s already cross expression though.

-

She found him sitting on his bed, his pillow clutched tightly against him.

She wondered why he didn’t try and find her again immediately after her meeting with Coulson and Ward. 

He looked lost in his thoughts. Dazed. 

She wanted to break him out of his reverie. She wanted to help change his tortured expression.

“The hell was that, Simmons?” 

He didn’t look at her.

She sat next to him anyway. 

“I should ask you the same. Ward told me what you were planning to do before he intercepted.” 

“You don’t think I could’ve done it?” 

“No, I didn’t say that.” 

Fitz shook his head slowly. “When I saw you jump... I can’t believe you did that, Jemma.” 

“Can you blame me?” Jemma asked quietly. “No one was accepting the fact that I was a walking, ticking timebomb. I did what I thought I had to.” 

Fitz snorted softly. “I’m glad you didn’t get your way.” 

“Me too,” Jemma smiled, turning towards him adoringly. 

“And I _was_ going to do it.”

-

She wondered if he really believed what she told him before she kissed his cheek out of gratitude. 

The sight of him barreling through those lab doors, knowing good and well the risk of him interacting with her in that small space...

She couldn’t get over that image. 

He _saved_ her. 

She was grateful to Ward, because _yes_ , Ward 100% literally saved her life and was dashing and charming about it to boot. 

But _Fitz_. 

Fitz _saved_ her. He didn’t give up on her. He didn’t give up on her. He didn’t -

She wondered what it was like for him... being on the opposite side of those doors... watching her fly than fall to her death.

Because being ripped away from him like that...

She just.

She was glad Ward arrived on the scene when he did.

Because she was utterly and completely certain that had he not shown up, Fitz would’ve catapulted into the sky, regardless of the results of his field assessment exams. 

And she didn’t think she could bear the thought of that. 

Because he was right about what he said back there in the lab.

He had been beside her the whole damn time.

And she had no earthly desire to experience anything to the contrary.

-

So check out The [Whole Damn Time](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6950593/chapters/15866317) if you haven't already. Fitz's thoughts on the whole matter are a bit less... eloquent. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh... so... I think I’m gonna go full throttle into #fsww.
> 
> If you can tell where my head is at in terms of what this is the start of... you’re probably right.


	29. Bad Girl Shenanigans

“I shot a superior officer in the chest.” 

Out of all the things she could’ve responded with…

“Come again?” 

Jemma huffed. “Well, it was all Skye’s idea, really, and everything just simply escalated to the point where -” 

“You tried to lie, didn’t you?” 

Jemma sighed. “I was reprehensible. And besides, I was just so… you know, they barely told us anything about your mission. Skye and I _had_ to -” 

“Jemma, I’m okay. Ward’s okay. It’s done,” Fitz smiled reassuringly. 

“I know. I’m impressed, Fitz. Truly.” 

“Yeah?” Fitz could feel his ears turn a slight shade of red, but he ignored the heat, meeting her eyes with his own.

“Yeah,” Jemma grinned back. 

-

“Your 'Simmons' is showing.” Skye nudged Fitz, sitting next to him on the couch in the common room, and he had to blink several times to snap back into the present. 

It was funny. 

When Skye first joined the team, he couldn’t keep himself from practically drooling over her. But ever since…  _ever since_ … she was the furthest thing from his mind. Well, that wasn’t fair. He still considered her a good friend. He just meant - _oh, bloody hell._ Since when did he have to defend his feelings to himself?

Fitz pouted stubbornly. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Skye motioned to Jemma laughing loudly at something Ward had just said. 

Couldn’t’ve been _that_ funny.

“Just saying.” 

He didn’t answer her. He hoped she wouldn’t mistake his silence for agreement, but it was Skye, and he knew better.

“You should’ve seen her when you two were on your mission. She was seriously wigging out.” 

“I don’t… what? Wigging out… you know. I don’t know if what we did was -” 

“Yeah, totally. She was all, ‘protect the Night-Night gun for Fitz at all costs’ and ‘I hope Fitz liked the sandwich’ and ‘what if they’re torturing Fitz right now?’”

“Your British accent needs work.” 

“ _That’s_ what you got from what I said?” 

Fitz rolled his eyes. “Look, I’m sure she was worried because she didn’t think I was capable of field work.” 

Skye scoffed. “Did I say that?” 

Fitz merely shrugged in response. 

“Fitz. She was unraveling because it was _you_. Not because of what you can or can’t do - which you’ve proven to everyone - is a hell of a lot.” 

And there it was again.

“Who said I had to prove anything to anyone? I’m a valuable asset to this team same as you.” 

Skye cringed. “No, I know. I didn’t mean… just, you’ve proven - _shit_. I mean, you’ve _shown_ that you’re not just an engineer, and -” 

“Not just a - what are you getting at, Skye? Because I became an engineer at seventeen, thank you very much, which wasn’t an easy feat by any stretch of the imagination to most. And _another_ thing -” 

“Okay!” Skye threw her hands up in surrender. “Let's circle back to what I'm trying to get through your thick, genius skull. Simmons shot Agent Sitwell with your stupid Night-Night gun because of _you_. Our girl, Miss Prim-and-Proper-and-Practically-Perfect-in-Every-Way, engaged in espionage because she was worried about you.” 

“On the contrary, the Night-Night gun is far from stupid.” 

“Stupid name, then.” 

“Don’t you start too, now.” 

Skye shook her head. “ _Just_. She’s really happy to have you back safe and sound.” 

Fitz chuckled good-naturedly. “Yeah, I know.” 

“And Fitz?” 

“Yeah?” 

“That makes two of us.” 

And before he could protest, she swiped five pretzels from his bowl and sauntered off to join Jemma and Ward. 

And he - and his pretzels - quickly followed suit. 

-

Check out **[Mr. Save-the-Day](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6950593/chapters/15867229)** which can now be considered part of the conversation that Fitz and Skye find themselves observing. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requests are always welcome as well. I haven’t forgotten about any of the requests I’ve been given either. I promise!


	30. Like We Always Do

Fitz and Skye were completely blindsided by the attack. 

They dodged the gunshots like professionals, but when the man started to use hand-to-hand combat, it exposed both him and Skye as the amateur fighters they truly were. 

Still.

The minute Skye was thrown to the floor, Fitz started seeing red and attacked the guy anyway.

Skills and training be damned.

And then, face down on the floor, he heard it.

 _Her_ voice.

_What the hell was she doing here?!_

The man turned around to the new voice, and Fitz was frozen. 

“Oh, bloody hell!” 

All he could do was watch as Jemma wrapped her body around the man to absorb whatever threat he had at his disposal.

“Jemma!” 

_NO!_

JemmaJemmaJemmaJemmaJemmaJemmaJemmaJemmaJemmaJemma

He heard the thud and the silence and Skye’s gasp and he heard them all and he couldn’t breathe and he couldn’t move and he could only watch as Skye rushed to Jemma’s side and he couldn’t he couldn’t he couldn’t he couldn’t

“She’s okay.” 

And then he breathed and then he moved and then he spoke and then he thought and then he planned and then he did so many other things because 

_She’s okay._

It pained him to leave her, but he and Skye ensured that Jemma had everything she needed when she woke up.

_When._

Still.

He couldn’t resist shooting the perp with his ICER, twice, out of vengeance.

“That’s for Simmons.” 

-

Fitz was heartbroken.

Completely.

Utterly.

Just...

_Sick._

He watched Skye like Simmons watched Skye like May watched Skye like Coulson watched Skye like Ward watched Skye and -

“Excuse me.” 

Jemma left the group, and he continued to stare at Skye.

She couldn’t - she just - she _couldn’t_. 

But he saw how broken Jemma was.

So he stayed a moment longer.

And then he followed her.

-

He didn’t say anything. 

Words weren’t needed.

But he could _see_ her. 

Her movements were a tragic mixture of robotic and spastic, and her body shook with stifled sobs, so he put a hand on her shoulder, and he still didn’t know if he should say anything, but she turned and saw him, and the minute she did, he knew exactly what to do.

He held her. 

He held her and let her weep on his shoulder, and he tried to say soothing things, but they got lost in the...

He held her and let her weep on his shoulder, and he tried to soothe her by gently rubbing her back with his thumb, back and forth, back and forth...

His mind was racing with _what if_ s and regrets and _if I had just_ s and shock and _I shouldn’t’ve_ s and heartbreak, but he drew strength from holding Jemma just as she drew strength from being held, and, together, they held on to the hope of Skye making it through.

She _had_ to. 

-

Check out Jemma's inner monologue during the last scene in [To Keep Her Alive](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6950593/chapters/15954802) and Skye's amused, shipping observations in [Getting into Character](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7667776/chapters/17870845). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requests are always welcome as well. I haven’t forgotten about any of the requests I’ve been given either. I promise!


	31. It's Not Him

Once Trip and Jemma made sure Audrey was safe and settled back at her apartment, they drove back to where Fitz and Coulson would be waiting for them at the quinjet. 

“Well,” Jemma sighed. “That was an interesting mission to say the -”

“Can I ask you something?” Trip’s eyes never left the road, but she felt them on her all the same. 

Her cheeks started to heat up.

“Why, yes. Of course. You can - you can ask me anything. You know that, Trip.”

“Okay, cool.” 

Jemma waited in silence. 

Well, was he going to ask or not?

 _“_ Well, are you going to -”

“What did I do to offend Agent Fitz?”

“I beg your... I beg your pardon?”

“Fitz. You’re his best friend. I’m sure you know why he hates me.” 

She wished she did. But Trip was far too nice for her to outright confirm his suspicions. 

So she fibbed a bit. She _was_ getting better at that sort of thing after all.

“Oh, _no_. I don’t think Fitz hates you at _all._  He _likes_ you even. Always telling me, you know, ‘Jemma, I quite like that Trip chap’ and so on -” 

“ _Jemma_.” 

Or perhaps she hadn’t improved in the slightest. 

“Look,” Trip said. “I actually really like Fitz. I can tell he’s a good guy, and honestly, he’s one of the handful of people I trust these days. So whatever I did... I just want to get past it.”

“Truthfully, Trip. His motivation for acting the way he does around you completely evades me.”

“So you have noticed it, too, then.” 

“Of course I have. And quite frankly, it’s a bit childish and inconsiderate of him to treat you like that.” 

“I don’t know, Agent Simmons. Maybe he still thinks that I’m as dirty as Garrett was. And honestly, I can’t blame him.”

“But you _aren’t_. It’s not your fault Garrett turned out to be a psychopath.”

“Well, all I can say is if it were Coulson who turned out to be the Clairvoyant, I’d definitely have questioned whether you and Fitz were in on it too.” 

“Right, but that -” 

Trip stopped at the red light and turned to face her. “He trusts you. Completely. Without question. Would you - that is - it might be good if you, you know, threw in a good word for me.” 

_Oh, I’ll talk to him alright._

_-_

_You know how I can be. I hate change._

He wasn’t being completely honest with her. The response was too much of a cop out. 

But May, Skye, and Ward were nowhere to be seen, so they had bigger problems to deal with at the moment. 

Fitz’s odd, alienating behavior would have to be more closely examined at a later date. 

And she _would_ examine it. 

This wasn’t the Fitz she knew. 

This wasn’t him. 

And if Trip and Fitz were both going to remain a significant presence in her life (like the rest of the team), they would have to learn how to coexist. 

This wasn't the time to start thinning down the group.

There was too much at stake.

-

Check out **[Why Don’t You Tell Her the Truth?](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6950593/chapters/16276382)** \- a journey of scenarios that run through Fitz’s head at warped speed when Jemma confronts him on the quinjet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I genuinely believe Trip had no idea Fitz liked her until after Fitz’s brain injury. Because if he did, it meant he was manipulating Jemma to confront Fitz about it in this episode, and I just don’t think that was Trip’s angle. He was 100% more concerned that Fitz didn’t trust him because of Garrett.
> 
> Requests are always welcome as well. I haven’t forgotten about any of the requests I’ve been given either. I promise! Welcome to my week 2 of #fsww.


	32. Things Still Feel Different

It was 3:54 a.m. on December 24th when she sprung awake, breathing shakily.

It was 3:54 a.m. on December 24th, and Will should’ve been home, reunited with his family.

It was 3:54 a.m. on December 24th, and she had yet to share a full, meaningful, _real_ conversation with one Leopold Fitz.

It was 3:54 a.m. on December 24th when Jemma decided to step out of bed, warm the kettle for some much needed tea, and take it to her window.

It wasn’t - she didn’t _own_ the window, but she was without sunlight for six months, so the team sort of... it was an unspoken thing, really.

Grasping her herbal tea, she padded to the window - her window - her house shoes muffling each step.

She didn’t know why she was even the slightest bit surprised when she saw him there, his back turned towards her.

“Hi.”

She could see his tentative smile, the side of it anyway, and he glanced back a bit to acknowledge her, raising his own mug in greeting.

She took that as his way of inviting her over.

So she heartily obliged.

It was 4:02 a.m. on December 24th when they brought their respective mugs to their lips simultaneously as they had done so many times before.

-

It was 4:13 a.m. on December 24th when Fitz finished his tea.

It was 4:18 a.m. on December 24th when Jemma finished hers. 

It was 4:19 a.m. on December 24th when Fitz outstretched his hand for her mug and placed it on the windowsill. 

It was 4:20 a.m. on December 24th when Jemma smiled at him, warmly, in gratitude.

And it was 4:27 a.m. on December 24th when Fitz finally broke the silence. 

“You bummed you won’t be in Sheffield for Christmas?” 

“You know, it’s funny. I hadn’t thought much about it. In fact, I forgot that - oh, _God_. It’s Christmas Eve, isn’t it?” 

Fitz chuckled mirthlessly. “Sounds like you feel the same way I do about it.” 

Jemma sighed. “It’s just - with everything that’s happened -” 

“- it’s hard to feel festive.”

“Does this happen often, Fitz?” 

When Fitz gave her a puzzled look, she gestured towards him and the window. "It's 4:30 in the morning." 

Fitz pursed his lips. “About as often as it does for you, Simmons.” 

He had a point there.

-

It was 5:06 a.m. on December 24th when Jemma brought two chairs over to the window - her window - one at a time (”Well, if we’re gonna stay here anyway.”). 

It was 5:08 a.m. on December 24th when Fitz grabbed one of the chairs from her (”Why didn’t you just ask me for help instead of struggling with those?”).

It was 5:10 a.m. on December 24th when Fitz stood up from his new seat and walked away from the window, carrying their forgotten cups.

It was 5:12 a.m. on December 24th when Jemma finally decided she did nothing wrong and vowed to not let his sudden departure affect her.

It was 5:16 a.m. on December 24th when Fitz returned with two steaming mugs, carefully handing her one of them, a playful glint in his eye. 

She huffed dramatically but accepted the drink all the same. 

-

It was 6:23 a.m. on December 24th when Jemma turned towards Fitz.

“You asked me a bit ago how I felt, being away from my family this time of year.” 

Fitz nodded, a silent gesture for her to continue.

“I’m right where I want to be.” 

-

it was 7:03 a.m. on December 24th when the first rays of sunlight started to light up the dreary sky. 

It was 7:06 a.m. on December 24th when Fitz interrupted himself mid-conversation and tilted his head towards the window instead.

It was 7:07 a.m. on December 24th when they both began to watch the sunrise in silence. 

It was 7:24 a.m. on December 24th when the day was lit anew, and tears blurred Jemma’s eyes.

“Five months ago, I didn’t think I’d ever see the sun again. Let alone, stare at it with you on Christmas.”

Fitz didn’t meet her gaze, keeping his fixed outside.

“Will should be here too.” 

Jemma sniffed. “You’re right. He should.” 

It was 7:31 a.m. on December 24th when Fitz spoke up, his voice gravelly. “Five months ago, I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again. So please don’t judge me too harshly when I tell you that this is the best Christmas I’ve ever had.” 

Jemma laughed through her tears. “I won’t if you don’t judge me for thinking the same.” 

It was 7:33 a.m. on December 24th when FitzSimmons fell into silence once more, wiping their away their tears. 

-

It was 7:51 a.m. on December 24th when Jemma reached for his empty mug.

“You think we’ll do anything as a team to celebrate this year?” 

Fitz shrugged. “Might be nice to have a small dinner or something.” 

“Yeah. I’ll pitch that idea to Bobbi and Daisy. See what they think.” 

She turned to grab her chair too, but Fitz waved her off. “Leave it. You got the cups. I’ll get the chairs.” 

Jemma stood in her spot, looking at the floor before meeting his eyes. “Thank you for spending Christmas morning with me.” 

“Jemma...”

“Well, I mean, technically, Christmas _Eve_ morning, but -” 

“Jemma?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Happy Christmas, Jemma.” 

“Happy Christmas, Fitz.” 

-

It was 7:24 p.m. on December 24th when everyone raised their glass in holiday greeting. 

It was 7:25 p.m. on December 24th when Fitz clinked her wine glass with his, his eyes not straying from hers.

It was 7:43 p.m. on December 24th when he caught her stealing a glance at him, and her cheeks colored accordingly as her eyes darted to her plate. 

And it was 7:49 p.m. on December 24th when she caught him stealing a glance at her.

-

Check out more of a holistic chapter during this time frame by reading  **[This Chasm As You Call It](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6950593/chapters/17181739)**. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, you can blame this one on listening to Dolly Parton’s “Hard Candy Christmas” and The Carpenter’s “Merry Christmas, Darling”. I love me some romantic melancholy feels during Christmastime.


	33. I've Done the Math

He had been _this_ close to telling her everything. They were going to die anyway, right? And she just looked so beautiful, so peaceful, contemplating about life. 

Thinking about what really matters. 

It was time to put his fear and misgivings aside. 

And tell her the truth. 

And let that truth live on in whatever time they had left together. 

He had been _this_ close to telling her everything. 

But he didn’t. 

Because they actually had a way - there was a _way_ for them to get out. 

And that was what really mattered. 

Keeping her alive. 

He promised himself he’d tell her after. 

Once they were both safely to shore. 

But - for now - they both needed to focus on the task at hand.

The most important exam life had ever thrown them.

Escaping death.

-

And they worked. 

Side by side. 

Finishing each other’s sentences. 

Planning for all possible outcomes. 

Creating.

It was ironic that they were putting all their faith into an explosive preserving their lives instead of destroying them.

They didn’t talk much about anything that didn’t concern their project. 

Certainly not about laws of thermodynamics or unspoken confessions or ideas about death. 

They just focussed on the nitty, gritty details. 

Saving the small talk for a later date. 

He guessed they figured now that there was _hope_  of survival, there’d be many more conversations ahead of them in the years to come. 

It made him dizzy with excitement. 

They had a _chance_.

-

And as they worked, something nagged at him.

The oxygen tank left with them was dangerously, frighteningly hollow.

Getting out of the pod was one thing.

But surviving the impact of being on the bottom of the ocean with no air? 

That was another altogether. 

So while Jemma frantically worked beside him, finalizing the explosive, Fitz spent time on his side project.

Figuring out how to use what little oxygen was left in there to get her out of there. 

Because the oxygen tank left with them was dangerously, frighteningly hollow. 

And he didn’t have a prayer of surviving.

He just had to look at the numbers.

-

He waited until the last, possible moment to tell her.

If he had mentioned it earlier, she would’ve _insisted_ they try something else.

He knew her too well.

Well enough to know she would’ve sacrificed her own safety for whatever small chance they had of both getting out of there alive. 

And - selfishly - he wasn’t okay with that. 

And if she had to curse him for the rest of her days that she _lived_...

So be it.

-

In the middle of his explanation of instructions, he could see the exact moment when it clicked.

“One breath? But there’s two of us.” 

He offered her a lame excuse. 

She didn’t buy it.

“No.” Her voice came out more frantic, more panicked, and he wracked his brain with ways to calm her down and accept the inevitable. 

They were running out of time.

He started to speak again, trying to get her to see reason.

It really was the only way.

“No, I’m not leaving you here. That’s ridiculous. We need a new plan.”

Hadn't she realized yet that he went through an infinite number of scenarios in his head? 

This was their best shot.

This was _her_ best shot.

And they had to **fucking hurry**.

So he insisted again that she take it. Closing off all avenues of discussion.

Trying to make her understand what she meant to him. 

Trying to make her understand what her survival meant to him. 

This was her best shot. 

And she had to take it. 

To do anything else would destroy him.

“Well, I feel the same way. There has to be another way!” 

Calmly, stubbornly, he held his ground. 

“Why, why would you make me do this? You’re my best friend in the world!” 

And there it was. He knew she would be heartbroken. But she’d move on eventually. 

Start anew. 

But him? 

He had finally understood his true purpose.

It was nothing he learned from any university or academy or S.H.I.E.L.D.’s endless accounts and records.

Nothing he did like designing non-lethal weapons or surveillance drones or mouse holes. 

His true purpose wasn’t flashy.

Wasn’t spawned from education.

It was to save the love of his life by laying down his own. 

That’s what he was meant to do. 

And if that was his purpose?

Then she deserved to know the answer to her question.

So he told her.

He _finally, finally_ told her. 

She stood there, breathing shallowly.

Stunned.

He kept staring at her. Taking her in. Holding on to the adrenaline of his bravery to look her square in the eye. 

He was not ashamed of his feelings. 

Only ashamed he had waited so long. 

Which he admitted, bowing his head in that shame.

But only for a moment.

Because they were running out of time.

And then, he focussed on her again.

On her wet eyes and stricken expression and heaving shoulders, and he drudged up the last bit of what she needed to hear. 

To finally agree to let him go.

Begging her to let him be selfish in doing this selfless act. 

So that she could see his love for her. 

In ways that words could never express.

_It worked._

_-_

He tried to memorize every part of her as she held on tightly, sobbing into his neck.

He tried to soothe her.

_No._

That was her only reply.

_No._

The feel of her lips on him were bittersweet. The kisses were sloppy and wet and mixed with her tears. With his.

He closed his eyes, savoring - just for a moment - the feel of her lips on him. 

On his neck. And on his cheeks. On his forehead. Everywhere she could reach.

He knew she loved him. 

He knew this was her way of showing him how much.

But he also knew his love was different from hers. 

Far different.

Which reassured him that she would eventually be okay. 

And they had to hurry.

He whispered her name. Over and over again. 

Trying to make her see.

They had to do this _now_. 

_No._

_No._

Her protests were growing weaker. 

He had to remind her of what needed to be done.

“Take it, Jemma. Take it.” He had a strong hold of his plan, but if she kept crying into his neck and showering him with kisses and holding on for dear life, he feared that he’d keep her there forever.

_No._

She had to let go. 

She did. 

Keeping her hand on his shoulder. 

He took advantage of her silence. Of her pleading eyes. 

He took one last long look at her. 

It was enough. 

He nodded softly. 

Letting her know, without words, that this is what needed to be done.

He was okay with this. 

_I love you_. 

He didn’t say it. 

He still didn't say it.

Some things were better left unsaid. 

Because he took advantage of her stillness. 

Of her tearful eyes, watching his every move.

And pushed the button.

-

The last thing he heard was her scream.

_No._

_-_

Check out Jemma's perspective during the after _math_ (OMG, forgive me. I couldn't resist) in [So Please. Let Me Show You](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6950593/chapters/16411288) and Trip's realization in [End of Story](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7667776/chapters/17775931).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requests are always welcome as well. I haven’t forgotten about any of the requests I’ve been given either. I promise! Belated for week 2 of #fsww. But hey. C'est la vie!


	34. You Don't Need Me Anymore

And then she and Agent Morse were flying off the roof.

Jemma literally took a leap of faith. 

Because she saw bloody **nothing**.

She had never welcomed the pain of crashing into something hard more in her life, and once Agent Morse kept Jemma from falling off the edge of it, she realized they had landed on a quinjet.

The cloaking.

They _did_ it.

“Welcome back, Agent Simmons.” Trip’s breezy voice filled the cockpit. 

She sighed with relief.

She was _home_.

-

She buckled herself in, preparing for the... _reunion_ that awaited her.

When Coulson gave her this assignment, he told her to tell no one about it. Only he and May knew. 

So she had wondered - during those lonely nights in her flat - how the others had felt about her abrupt departure and lengthy absence. 

She had wondered - during those lonely nights in her flat - how _he_ had felt about her abrupt departure and lengthy absence.

Would he... Did he _know_? 

Would he try and start an argument? 

Would he give her the cold shoulder? 

Would he welcome her back with open arms? 

Would he... Would he say something about her hair? That last one was silly, but everyone goes through that bout of shyness when they change their appearance, right? 

Perfectly normal for her to experience the churning sensation in her belly. 

_Right?_

_-_

She had missed him so, so much. But everything within her wanted to delay the reunion as long as possible. 

She didn’t know why. 

Except. 

She absolutely did.

-

The quinjet landed back on base, and Jemma walked with Bobbi and Trip down the familiar hallways. 

The closer she got to their new lab, the more butterflies she felt in her stomach. There had to be a kaleidoscope of them by now. 

“Welcome home, Agent Simmons.” 

It was funny. Nearly an hour ago, she was certain she was dead or _worse_ , and now? 

Now, she was being greeted by Coulson with May at his side with Coulson informing her that her newfound friend, Bobbi, would be joining the team, and _really -_

That was when she saw him. 

Approaching slowly, watching her. 

Through the window. 

She barely heard what Coulson said, her mind was so...

She barely felt May’s touch on her arm, she was shaking. 

She balled her fists up, trying to ground herself. 

She knew she had an audience. 

She had one with - with _him_ \- and with the others, and - 

It was silly. 

She just faced a tumultuous situation with _Hydra_ , and for whatever...

This was almost as frightening. 

She let herself into the lab, spending more time than usual to gingerly close the door.

She felt his eyes on her. 

“Hi, Fitz.” She hoped her smile was convincing. 

“Simmons,” he muttered. 

 _Ah._ Back to business then with the _Simmons_ of it all. 

She didn’t know how she felt about that.

Except. 

She absolutely did.

He kept staring, and she had to look away from his piercing gaze. 

“Is that really you?” 

Well, she didn’t expect _that_. She wasn’t gone three _years_. 

She chuckled from the absurdity of his question. 

She chuckled from to drown out the deafening nerves. 

“Of course it is. Who else would it be?” 

He breathed deeply, nodding. 

He was stoic. And his expression was unreadable. And he didn’t let go of his hand. 

But that didn't hide the shaking.

She forced herself to step closer to him. 

She could feel his eyes again. 

“How’ve you been?” She cursed her voice for squeaking at the end, betraying her unease. 

This wasn’t... this wasn’t _them_. 

This was... 

She just - 

She had missed him so badly. 

But _this_  - 

She wanted to flee from _this_. 

-

He stared at her a bit longer and finally said, “Fine. Been fine. You?” 

She chuckled again. “Fine, too, I suppose.” 

Fitz nodded, looking down. “Good. That’s good.” 

She sighed. “Yeah.” 

_I missed you._

She willed him to hear her unspoken truth. 

But their “psychic link” as Skye liked to affectionately call it - had a bit of a disconnect. 

Because the next thing he said was, “Yeah, well, if you’ll... I just remembered I... welcome back, Simmons.” 

And left her alone in the new lab.

So much had changed between the two of them. 

And she had no idea how she felt about any of it.

Except.

She absolutely did.

- 

Check out **[Is That Really You?](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6950593/chapters/16502785)** for Fitz’s inner monologue on the situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How fucking cool is it that a group of butterflies is called a “kaleidoscope”?? And Jemma, hands down, 1000% would know that. 
> 
> Belated, but this is for week 2 of #fsww. Requests are always welcome as well. I haven’t forgotten about any of the requests I’ve been given either. I promise!


	35. Trust Me on This

He had to admire the way Jemma insisted on brainstorming what happened to Mack. It was sweet. 

If not _extremely_ patronizing. 

But when she explained her reasoning, he realized she wasn’t...

She was simply being the Simmons to his Fitz. 

Because they started trading theories, and it was almost like...

They were **them** again. He had all but forgotten what that felt like. Sure, they had briefly fallen into old habits with her finishing his sentences in the cave. 

But this was different. 

This was a real, true conversation. 

About _science_. And saving his friend. And he could see the excitement welling up in her about the sheer possibility of helping Mack. 

_There’s still hope we can save him._

That’s what she said, wasn’t it? 

_Still hope._

And just like that, he had fallen back into...

He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. 

_Now was not the time._

-

They spent the morning trying to figure out how to get the team safely down there without running the risk of being affected by the city. 

It was tough. 

Part of it was they were left with very little data about the city, regardless of how many theories they shared. 

And the other part was personal. 

It was tough to work with her almost seamlessly again. 

When so much had changed. 

But - _together_ \- they figured out hazmat suits were the way to go to protect themselves from the possessed city.

_Just like old times._

If only that were really true.

-

When the three of them were in the tunnels, rigging the bottoms with explosives, and Trip expressed frustration about the lengthy task, Fitz knew what he had to do.

“We should split up.” 

Jemma protested, and Trip protested, but Fitz held his ground. 

This wasn’t the time to play it safe or hide his capabilities. He knew exactly what needed to be done. 

He wasn’t the weakest link anymore. He had shown that on his mission with Coulson and Trip. He wasn’t the weakest link, and the team needed more time, and it would be selfish of him to hold back when he _knew_ he could do it. 

He _could_.

She said his name, and there was that _damn_ concern again, and he tried to put to rest as best he could. 

“I’m not afraid.” 

She said his name again, and there was that _damn_ connection again, because he knew just from her inflection what she meant.

_Other direction._

_-_

He was spooked, but he focussed at the task at hand, meticulously setting up the explosives. 

He found that when he concentrated on the minute-by-minute details, the fear of the ominous city lessened and lessened. 

He didn’t know when it had happened. Maybe with each mission or maybe all at once during that fateful time in the pod. but he found he had this bravery about him, and he truly was meant for this job and this life, and it kind of...

_Well._ It was a lot to take in. 

He pushed his wandering thoughts to keep concentrating.

He wasn’t going to let them down.

He wasn’t going to let _her_ down.

He wasn’t going to let himself down.

-

_He fucking did it._

“Ten minutes to spare!” 

He had to admire the way Jemma cheered him on when he returned to the two, having completed the task successfully. It was sweet.

If not _extremely_ patronizing.

But her hand on his arm remained much longer than necessary, and they started lamenting Mack, and he realized that maybe she wasn’t...

She was simply...

Her hand remained on his arm, and they almost shared a - 

She stepped away from him swiftly when Trip interrupted, filling May in, and Fitz snapped his attention to him.

And then his stomach dropped.

Because _Skye_ and _Coulson_ were down...

Trip was already on the move.

He and Jemma tried to stop him, screaming their protest. 

But it was too late.

_He was gone._

-

“Fitz! We have to do something!” Jemma was frantic. 

Fitz was breathing hard. He surveyed their surroundings and came up empty. “We _can’t_ , Jemma.” 

Her voice started to get more and more hysterical with each new worry, and he tried to placate her as best as he could. 

But it was hopeless.

Her breathing turned into shaky gasps, and he longed to comfort her in whatever way he could. He knew the special regard she had for Trip.

He even reached out to - 

He quickly returned his hand to his side.

They were grieving someone who... 

And this was not the time. 

And then she set her teary gaze on him, asking him if he was going to leave the lab. 

To leave... to leave _her._

He tried to make her see, thought he had explained it the best he could.

“Jemma, I’m not leav-” 

A rumble interrupted him, and he felt the earth beneath her feet vibrate intensely. He shared a frightened look with her, and they both glanced up at the ceiling where it was starting to rain down dust. 

Before he could think, before he could _breathe_ , he grabbed her, tightly securing her, shielding her from the falling debris.

There was a lot he had undergone in six months. There were parts of himself that were no more. That he was freed from. 

Like broken shackles, he had shucked many things that were weighing him down before. 

But his instinct to protect Jemma? That - no matter where they were or what they were or who they were to each other - that hadn’t changed. 

Not one bit. 

In fact, his desire to keep her safe only strengthened in its resolve.

Only grew more powerful with time and separation and hurt and hurled accusations and frustration and stalled recoveries.

“Hang on, Jemma. I got you.” 

Her only response was to cling more readily to him. 

“I got you,” He whispered.

-

Check out **[You Might Still Have Hurt Feelings](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6950593/chapters/16622338)** to see Jemma’s perspective and the more fleshed out conversation in the ending scene. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of the bit at the end is inspired by Iain’s podcast interview: 
> 
> “Isn’t it quite a cool idea that maybe [Fitz] came outta the other side of that injury better?…[M]aybe he’s actually left things behind he didn’t need.”
> 
> For week 3 of #fsww. Requests are always welcome as well. I haven’t forgotten about any of the requests I’ve been given either. I promise!


	36. The Ones That Got Away

Fitz was very, very relieved that Jemma was at his side again. 

Figuratively and literally.

When everything went to shit, and S.H.I.E.L.D. was S.H.I.E.L.D. and not-S.H.I.E.L.D., and people like - _trusted_ people like Mack and Bobbi - 

He was overwhelmed with gratitude when he saw she had made it unscathed. 

And although their relationship consisted mainly of bickering and finishing each other sentences and unfinished conversations, the quickest stride to mend them was none of the three. 

They sat by each other without a word.

And then Jemma reached over and took his hand in his. 

It was a question. 

An unspoken question. 

He knew that much. 

He answered by covering her hand with his own.

And that was that. 

So many, many talks. 

So many arguments and accusations of hurt and betrayal. 

Yet, with that simple gesture...

They were _fixed_.

-

When she had approached him with her plan, he readily agreed. He hated the idea of being separated from her again. 

They had finally reconciled. 

Yet, for the good of the team, he knew it was their best bet.

They talked about how they would make their “fight” believable, and Fitz poked fun at her experience - or lack thereof - with lying. 

Jemma’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I have much more experience with it _now_.” 

_Oh._

Fitz grimaced. “Right. I can’t believe I forgot about your stint with... with Hydra.” 

“Yeah, well...” 

He realized that they had never really talked about it. She came back, and he didn’t know what to say to her. He didn't know how to let go of his feelings of bitterness and betrayal. 

But they were friends again. They trusted each other. 

_And so._

“I’d like to hear about your undercover work there. At some point. I mean. I know we have to focus on our plan, but... I just don’t think I’ve mentioned how impressed I am that you...” He let the sentence trail off. 

This time, Jemma’s smile did reach her eyes. 

-

"Things can never  _go_ back to normal." 

He tried to focus on not breaking character. It was funny how much acting was required in the line of spy work.

She was doing fantastic.

It was up to him to follow suit. He started rambling with pent-up fury (that wasn't hard to access) and picked up the box, tossing it back and forth, nonchalantly, despite Mack's protest and the guns trained on him. 

He went for the jugular. "I believe in trust. And I'm shocked that you would do this. You knew this would drive me away. You may as well have packed my bags yourself." 

The hurt in her eyes was very believable. 

He had to look away from them. "You want me to leave, don't you, Jemma?" 

She reminded him of their duty to S.H.I.E.L.D. and then ended with, "So perhaps it's best if you do." 

 _Ouch._ Good thing they were just acting. 

...

_Right?_

-

He felt her hands on his shoulders. 

They were supposed to mad at each other. Furious, even. 

On different sides. 

So, this parting touch would have to do. Even if it was under the guise of helping him with his pack. 

He wanted to look back. 

He wanted to do a lot of things. 

But he looked forward instead. 

And that was almost as nice.

-

He flagged down a taxi, and when he was settled in the backseat, he knew he was safe enough to unpack his bag. 

He had no time to waste. Jemma was counting on him. 

 _Coulson_ was counting on him. 

He took out the Fury’s Toolbox and hoped Jemma was doing her best to stall with the replica back at base. 

He was sure she was. “Nice work, Jemma.” 

And that’s when he felt it. Something that... 

He read the note first. 

 

**_Prosciutto & Mozzarella _ **

**_Be Safe!_ **

**_Love, Jemma_ **

****

He didn’t dwell too closely on the “love”. He knew she loved him. 

Just not the way he did. 

But that didn’t matter. 

Because she still _knew_ him and secretly packed his favorite sandwich. 

He hurriedly unwrapped the sandwich and lifted one of the halves up, inhaling deeply and closing his eyes. 

If heaven was to be transferred to one sandwich smell, he was absolutely certain Jemma’s masterpiece would be the top choice. 

“With a hint of pesto aioli.” 

He took the paper sleeve off the half and - grinning broadly - sank his teeth into the sandwich.

Flavors and textures exploded in his mouth, and he couldn’t stop smiling, because _Jemma_ \- the one who - for months - had become estranged to him - physically and then, figuratively - never stopped trusting him.

Never stopped caring for him. 

Never stopped loving him. 

He wanted to thank her right then. 

To thank her for her trust. For her support. For her love. 

He wanted to thank her for the sandwich. 

He wanted to reassure her that - in time - they’d be stronger than ever. 

But because he couldn’t do any of those things...

He settled for enjoying the heavenly, delicious, scrumptious, life-changing sandwich. 

Every bit of it.

-

Check out **[May As Well Have Packed My Bags Yourself ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6950593/chapters/16806595)** where Jemma makes his sandwich, writes the note, and reflects on their relationship and **[We Had the Better Hand](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7320274)** where Trip and Fitz work together on the 21st century Howling Commandos kit that Coulson uses in the ep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For week 3 of #fsww. Requests are always welcome as well. I haven’t forgotten about any of the requests I’ve been given either. I promise!


	37. I Made You a Promise

“Isn’t it our responsibility to at least _arm_ ourselves against him?” 

Fitz studied her carefully, and she grew uneasy from his gaze. 

She was being smart. Why couldn’t he see that? 

He, of all people, should be on board with this. After what Ward...

“I suppose,” Fitz answered slowly. “But he’s still really... have you thought this through? What if -”

Jemma scoffed. “Of course I’ve thought it through. What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“No, that’s not... I just meant... _Jemma_. He’s still a pretty dangerous guy. He’s tried to kill us both. Almost succeeded. I just want you to be careful.” 

Jemma nodded. “I know.” 

“Plus, how are you going to get him alone? I don’t think anyone’s going to let that happen on base. He’s flanked by agents at all times.”

“I’ve taken that into account.” 

Fitz just sat there, listening intently. She took that as an indication to continue. 

“I’m going to join the mission.” 

-

Once she had suited herself up in the tactical gear, she went back to the lab to gather her equipment. 

“Still going through with it then?” Fitz’s voice startled her, and she spun around to see him lingering in the doorway, arms crossed. 

“Of course I am.”

Fitz nodded and didn’t speak for a bit. 

“I wish you wouldn’t,” he finally said.

Jemma gritted her teeth. “I can take care of myself.” 

“Oh, I’m well aware of that!”

Jemma recoiled from his sudden outburst. “I don’t want to fight, Fitz.” 

Fitz sighed. “Yeah, I don’t want to fight either.” 

“I know you’re worried, but I assure you. I’ll be fine.”

Fitz stepped closer to her a bit. “I can’t say anything to change your mind, can I?” 

Jemma watched him, shaking her head firmly.

“Why is it so important for you take him out? He’s working with us. You know that old saying about where we should keep our enemies.” 

_Because he could kill even more of the innocent._

_Because he could turn on us at any moment._

_Because of what he did to us._

_Because of what he did to you._

But Jemma said none of those things. She just mirrored his expression by crossing her arms. 

She blinked back tears. 

“Okay, then. Let me give you a quick tutorial about the Splinter Bombs.” 

Jemma tilted her head to the side. “I already know about -” 

Fitz stepped closer still. “Please. Just... let me.” 

The intensity of his gaze was a bit too much for her to handle. For her to fight off. 

She saw how important it was for him to it.

_And so._

“Alright then, Fitz. Tell me.” 

-

She saw Fitz sigh with relief when the team met up at the quinjet and he spotted her.

She knew he would ask her what happened. 

Which is why she opted to have a private debrief with Coulson instead. 

She wasn’t ready to talk with Fitz about it yet. 

She wasn’t ready to tell him she _failed_.

-

He stopped her before she went into Coulson’s office anyway.

“I don’t know what happened, Jemma. But I’m glad you’re okay.” 

He was standing in her space a bit, and her head started swimming from the close proximity of his presence. 

“Me too,” was all she said in reply.

-

Check out their reunion after the events of the S.H.I.E.L.D. takeover in **[Seems the Two of Them Are in Love](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6950593/chapters/16868848). **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For week 3 of #fsww. Requests are always welcome as well. I haven’t forgotten about any of the requests I’ve been given either. I promise!


	38. There's a Piece We Don't Understand Yet

_Where the hell was she?_

Everything was set and ready to go. 

He walked over to his friend. 

He pulled up the video feed of her. 

_Before._

And when they realized the truth...

When they realized what happened to her....

Fitz laid a hand on Hunter’s shoulder, but he shrugged it off.

They would find her.

There was still hope for Bobbi.

Of that he was sure.

-

He followed Hunter to Coulson’s office (and was relieved to see Jemma had safely returned from the attack), and Hunter and May took off moments later without another word with Coulson trailing behind.

Jemma bit her lip, looking to Fitz worriedly. “Do you think she’ll be okay?” 

Fitz anxiously rubbed his forehead. “I don’t know, Jemma. Depends on how quick May and Hunter can get there.” 

Jemma nodded. 

“It’s good to have you back, safe and sound, though,” Fitz continued.

Jemma chuckled thinly. “Yeah. Who knew indexing could be so dangerous?”

_I did._

-

She grasped his hand in his before he could make his getaway. 

Of all the things to bring up...

After they had _finally_ gotten things patched up. 

But her hand stopped him, and he looked into her eyes, and he couldn’t breathe.

He saw tears swimming in them. 

He saw 

He saw

He saw _love_ swimming in them.

**_Maybe there is.  
_ **

Hypnotized by her eyes...

Hypnotized by her words, he took a step closer to her. 

"Agent Fitz! We’re on the move.” 

Coulson vanished as quickly as he had appeared.

It was time to move _now_.

The spell was broken. 

He didn’t know if she looked away. He didn’t look back.

And their fingers slipped from each other’s in a form of synchronization that he had feared was all but lost. 

-

Their reunion was a sweet one. Now that he knew how she felt, she didn’t hold back in her elation at having him back. 

They had fallen into old habits again. Finishing each other’s sentences. Working seamlessly, side-by-side.

But there was a distinct difference in their dynamic as well.

They stumbled over their words a bit at times and sometimes had trouble looking at each other in the eye. On more than one occasion, one would catch the other in a slight blush.

It was as nice as it was awkward. 

-

They talked about a number of things. 

Why she - why she _left_ and when they both **realized** and whom he saw while she was away ( ** _her_** , of course) and -

The important thing was they _talked_. 

And if he wasn’t mistaken, there’d be plenty more conversations of the sort in their new future. 

Along with other new, exciting developments.

It was time he asked her out properly.

No more life-or-death love confessions. 

Just a simple request for her to join him for dinner. 

Just a simple request for her to join him for dinner somewhere _nice_.

-

_Where the hell was she?_

Everything was set and ready to go.

He walked over to his friend.

Who pulled up the video feed of her.

_Before._

And when they realized the truth...

When they realized what happened to her....

Hunter laid a hand on Fitz’s shoulder, but he shrugged it off.

They would find her.

There was still hope for Jemma. 

Of that he was sure.

-

Check out  **[There Goes the Feeling](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6950593/chapters/16922266)** where Jemma and Fitz brainstorm about Cal and  **[Maybe There Is](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6950593/chapters/16946680)**  where the actual conversation mentioned in this piece is had. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For week 4 of #fsww. Requests are always welcome as well. I haven’t forgotten about any of the requests I’ve been given either. I promise!


	39. I Can't Give Up

When were they going to get it through their thick skulls? 

He _couldn’t_ throw in the towel. 

Not when Simmons could still be out there. 

Not until his last dying breath. 

And then he saw _it._

The **sand**. 

“Proof.” 

He took off without another word.

-

He debriefed the team on what the sand meant. 

“She’s out there,” Coulson murmured in awe. Fitz nodded encouragingly. 

_Yes. **Yes. YES.**_

“But it’s been months,” Coulson continued.

“Yeah?” Fitz did not like where this was going.

“She could be long gone from wherever this thing dropped her.” 

“Yeah.” Did Coulson always have to be so matter-of-fact about everything? They had a _lead_ , damn it. 

“She could be dead.” 

**_OKAY._ **

What more did Coulson want from him?

Of course that thought plagued Fitz every moment of every minute of every hour of every day of every week of every month for six of them. 

**“YES.”**

“But we’re gonna find out, aren’t we?” 

And for the first time in months, the team all rallied behind him. Wanting to follow his lead. 

-

So the three of them were off to Norway. He hung out with Bobbi in the cockpit. 

“So what do you know about this professor guy?” She finally broke the silence. 

To make an attempt at small talk about an alien who had lived on the planet for centuries while they took one step closer to rescuing his best friend who’d disappeared into a rock for six months. 

It was incredibly bizarre. 

“He’s brilliant. But a bit of a loose canon though. Indulges himself in every which way he can. Actually met him once.” 

Bobbi turned to him, eyebrows raised. “Really? What was he like?”

“A bit of an egomaniac. And flirted with everything that moved. But he knows his stuff, no question there.” 

“He hit on Simmons, didn’t he?” 

"Several times,” Fitz grumbled.

-

They brought Randolph back to base, and when he saw the monolith, he visibly recoiled. 

He finally revealed their final lead. 

At least, Fitz hoped it was their final lead.

He could - he could _feel_ it. 

They had never been this - 

“To the plane!” 

It was about damn time.

-

And in Gloucestershire, the team made their way into the abandoned castle.

Fitz _knew_ there was a point to them being there.

He could _feel_ it. 

And when he and Randolph tampered with the machine, it clicked. 

This machine **controlled the portal**. 

“Do you know that, or is that just what you hope it to be?” 

**_Okay._ **

“Well, there’s only one way to find out,” Fitz challenged.

While they waited for Mack and Daisy, he studied the machine as best he could. 

He could figure this out.

He _had to_ figure this out.

-

And when the other two finally arrived, he had already mastered the machine. 

The others followed his instructions, and the bloody portal opened, and he peered inside, but. he. couldn’t. see.

THEY WERE SO CLOSE.

And he couldn’t see a fucking thing.

“Light! I need more light!” 

The portal stayed open still, but why the **hell** weren’t they listening to him? 

“ _I need some bloody light!_ ” 

Coulson tossed him a flare gun, and he fired without hesitation. He could _just_ make out...

The flare went _through_.

And then it closed.

-

He convinced the team that they needed to send a probe through. 

But something needed to be done about the fragility of the machine.

And then two things clicked. 

_Quantum harmonic oscillation theory._

And _Daisy_.

-

But while they set up the machine again and connected the probe, something still nagged him. 

Based on the stamina of the machine, this could be their only shot. 

And if that probe were to _fail_ in some way...

There had to be another way. 

And that’s when he thought of one.

It was risky. 

It was reckless. 

It was dangerous. 

And it was **going to work**.

-

He didn’t tell him of the change in plans. They would’ve talked him out of it, the lot of them. 

No. 

This is something that needed to be done. 

_Had_ to be done. 

And he'd be damned if they got in his way.

They opened the portal again. 

He subtly unhooked the rope from the probe and attached it to his belt loop. 

He took a deep breath.

**“Hold it open as long as you can.”**

And then he jumped.

-

He landed on something hard and grunted from the impact. He could barely hear himself think there was so much wind. 

He could barely see there was so much sand.

**Blue** sand. 

None of that deterred him. 

“Jemma!” 

This was his last shot. He was so _close_. She _had_ to be here.

“Jemma!” 

He paced around, unsure of where to start looking, hoping his voice carried through. 

“Jemma!”

The sand was pelting him, and the wind grew stronger, and he stumbled, but he kept calling for her.

“Jemma!” 

And -

And _then._

**THEN.**

**“FITZ! FITZ!”  
**

Her voice paralyzed him

**“JEMMA?”**

but didn’t paralyze because he was already moving before he even registered that - that - that - that - that - 

_Have to get to Jemma. Have to get to Jemma. Have to get to Jemma._

_Jemma.Jemma.Jemma.Jemma.Jemma.Jemma.Jemma.Jemma._

He climbed and clawed his way up, following where he heard the blessed sound. 

Following his heart. 

And then 

And then 

And thennnnnnnnnnnnn

_HE SAW HER._

_“Jemma!”  
_

The rope was restricting his movements, and he’d be **damned** if some fucking rope was going to take him away from her now. 

She fought the wind, stumbling towards him, yelping.

“ _Fitz!”_

He stretched more than he thought possible and she stretched, and their fingers touched, and his soul lit on fire, because it was _**her** , _and he was touching her, and he could hardly believe it, but he felt himself being pulled back and -

**_NO WAY IN HELL._ **

**_NOT WITHOUT JEMMA._ **

And then she was rudely ripped away from his grasp because the rope made him fly backward and 

**NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO.**

**“NO! JEMMA! NO!”** He tried to dig into the ground - he kept reaching out - hoping she’d latch on again. 

But she didn’t.

_NoNoNoNoNoNoNoNoNoNoNoNoNoNoNoNoNoNoNoNoNoNoNoNo_

He fought against the rope. 

Like he had fought against the disbelief and despair and hopelessness and heartbreak and surrender that was tying him down those past six months - those past two years - he fought against that **fucking** rope.

He willed everything inside him - every piece of him - to move forward. 

And then he did. 

He fought against the rope, and she fought against the wind, and they reached for each other again. 

They grasped each other’s hands with everything within them. 

“Hang on, Jemma!” With a firm hold of her hand, he started to inch his way towards the portal. 

But the rope was still too fucking strong, and Jemma could barely keep up. 

Could barely hold on. 

He could feel her grip loosen and 

**_NO._ **

Not when he had her. Not when they were so close. Not when he had her.

“J-J-Jemma!” 

“NO!” 

He kept bringing them closer and closer, little by little, as all aspects of the universe tried to rip them apart. 

His bloody rope was insistent to rip him away, and the unforgiving wind whipped her all about, and the sand obstructed almost all of his view of her, but he allowed none of that to deter him. 

And then he drowned in a sea of rocks.

-

He broke through to the surface hurriedly and glanced up to see his team watch him warily, and he still felt _her_ , so he rushed to unbury her, and she gasped and she coughed and she wheezed and she - 

He still couldn’t believe it.

She stared at him in wonder. In weariness. In - 

“ _Fitz_ ,” she breathed and sank into his embrace as he held her. 

He looked up at his team again. 

To take in their faces of shock. 

And grinned the biggest fucking grin he could manage.

“Get them back up here!” Coulson commanded. 

Fitz felt Jemma go limp in his arms.

“Sooner the better! She’s out cold!” He screeched, holding her closer to him.

They threw down two harnesses with another _bloody rope_ attached, and he fastened the contraption on her the best he could before he put his own harness on. 

He held her closer still and gave them the all clear. 

Her steady breathing filling him with relief and gratitude with every inch they ascended. 

-

When they got to the top, he collapsed in exhaustion, careful to avoid lying right on top of her. And then he felt many hands unbuckle him and unbuckle her, and she was _taken_ from him, and he would’ve protested, but he was so _bloody_ tired, and Mack had a strong hold on her, and she needed medical assistance quickly, and so he just laid his head back down and closed his eyes for a bit. 

Because

Because 

Because

...

_she was back._

-

He felt a hand on his shoulder and saw a hand outstretched, and he smiled a bit, accepting Coulson’s hand, allowing him to help him up. 

They walked back to the quinjet in silence. 

And then when he got a bit of his energy back, he began to sprint instead.

-

He stumbled into the medical compartment, and Mack shot up from the chair he was occupying, and Fitz wasted no time in taking his place. Bobbi was tending to Jemma on the little stretcher but once she was done, she insisted she look at him too. 

He let her. 

He really didn’t give a fuck what anyone wanted to do or not do in that moment. 

As long as he could sit and stay with Jemma. 

He didn’t care.

-

He watched her eyelids flutter open, and she stared at him, and he composed himself enough to try and talk to her.

“Hey, Jemma. You,” He took a wavering breath, trying to keep his tears at bay. “You fainted just after - after we made it through the portal.” 

She nodded, but he could tell it pained her to do so. 

To simply  _nod_.

“I just - I can’t - can’t believe you’re really -” 

But she was already asleep. 

He leaned over, stroking her hair, making sure she was still breathing and her heart was still beating, and when he was assured of both, he waited a beat or two and then left a soft kiss at her hairline. 

And resumed his position beside her.

And waited. 

-

When they arrived back on base, Fitz and Bobbi wheeled her stretcher to a hospital room. 

Daisy - having recovered from her own part in Jemma’s rescue - grabbed a matching set of Jemma’s sweats, and Bobbi and Daisy both raised their eyebrows at Fitz expectantly. 

_Oh._

“Right.” He spun around, giving them privacy. 

“You know, Fitz. Now would be a good time for you to get yourself cleaned up too. Change. Take a shower,” Bobbi suggested.

“Not a chance.” 

“Just a suggestion.” 

He heard more movement and rustling and then a “you can turn around now” and he did, and he saw her sleeping peacefully, tucked in, and he slid against the wall near her, slumping in exhaustion. 

Daisy eyes darted back and forth between Jemma and him, and then she finally said, “Okay. I guess my work here is done.” She made to leave, but Fitz caught her hand, preventing her exit.

“Thank you,” Fitz murmured. “Thank you for - for _what you did_.” 

Daisy slouched down until she gripped him into a fierce hug. “Thank you for not giving up on her,” she whispered. 

She wiped her eyes and left quickly after that.

Bobbi stayed around a bit longer, re-checking Jemma’s vitals.  

“I still can’t believe she’s alive. She’s _here_. You did it, Fitz.” 

Fitz leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. 

“We all did.” 

-

The position gave him a terrible crick in his neck, and he woke up, whisking his head this way and that until he saw her sleeping beside him. 

Sleeping beside him.

_Jemma._

_**She was here.** _

He forgot about the discomfort and drifted off again.

_-_

And when he woke up again, something heavy was weighing down his leg. He opened his eyes and looked down and saw the back of her head, and then he looked to the side and saw her whole body curled up, and he felt her hand on his knee, and **in six fucking months** if this wasn’t the **BEST** way to wake up, then....

He drank in the moment. 

Studied the way her hair spilled out from her ponytail. 

It was longer now. And her highlights were faded. 

She had lost weight too. Her face was thinner. Her frame was thinner. 

He could see visible tension in her back, and he wanted - more than anything - to wake her up and take her to a real bed and just lie with her, holding her, protecting her from whatever horrors she encountered. 

Whispering words of love and hope and comfort. 

Kissing her fears and suffering away. 

But he didn’t. 

He just watched her sleep. 

And that was almost enough. 

-

He decided he needed to wake her. He figured she wouldn’t want Bobbi to see - well, he didn’t know what she did or didn’t want. Not really. 

But he wanted to be respectful regardless. 

“J-Jemma.” He gave into the temptation of stroking her hair softly. 

She lifted her head up and sat up a bit and turned towards him and began to _apologize_ of all things, and **REALLY,** what on earth did she - 

He cut her off and reached for her, asking her permission silently. 

She nodded. 

He took her hand. And put her worries at rest. 

Well.

As best as he could. 

He explained to her he only woke her up because she was due for another vitals check with Bobbi. 

“Right. Yes - yes, of course.” She scooted closer - ‘til she was flush against him - and laid her head on his shoulder, keeping her hand in his. 

And this time, he didn’t hesitate to kiss her hairline. 

-

Check out[ **For Once in Your Life**](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7667776/chapters/17895748) for May’s perspective of everything and **[But She Saw the Flare](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6950593/chapters/16989291)** \- Jemma’s counterpart to this one. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For week 4 of #fsww. I still haven't forgotten any of your prompts. And they're still very much welcome!! Hit me up. :)


	40. I Need You to Understand

“But I never would’ve survived without him.” 

She couldn’t look at him. She didn’t dare. She could feel his eyes on her, and she wanted more than anything to keep looking away. Keep looking down. Keep looking anywhere that wasn’t - 

But he deserved to know everything. Every piece of it. Every part of it. No matter how painful the fallout would be. Not matter how much it hurt for her to do. No matter how much it hurt him. 

He deserved to know.

Gathering enough courage, she turned her face towards him. 

His head was bowed, and he avoided her gaze. 

 _If he only knew_.

_If he..._

“Talk to me, Fitz.”

...

“Please.”

 She begged him to say **something**. To yell at her or scream at her tell her she did nothing wrong or tell her it was all going to be okay or ask if she wanted more tea or end whatever it was they were or just... or just **something**. 

But he said nothing. 

And he still wouldn’t look at her. 

And with each word he didn’t say, she felt pieces of her heart chip away more and more. 

He gave a little shake of the head and a little grunt - still refusing to look at her - and then - 

And then he

he 

he **_left._**

She heard each departing footstep until the sound of them disappeared into the vast nothingness that suddenly surrounded her. 

The noise of the silence was deafening. 

It suffocated her. 

She nodded in understanding. 

 _Of course_. 

What else was she expecting? 

“Oh, God,” she whispered to the void, wiping her eyes. 

She had spent days and nights crying for Will. Forced to accept the sacrifice he made for her. Forced to accept that she may not ever see him again. 

She had spent days and nights crying for Fitz. Her feelings of guilt cutting so deep she could barely breathe. 

And she had finally finally **finally** told him the truth. Told him about everything. About everyone. 

And it all happened just as she thought it would. 

She told him the truth

so he **left**.

...

_No._

_**NO.** _

She had not battled the elements of an unknown solar system for six fucking months for it all to end up like this. 

She would **fight** for them too. 

She would speak, and she would get him to speak, and they would speak and speak and speak ‘til their throats were raw and their tongues were dry and their eyes were stale from dried tears. 

He could scream and yell and curse and all of it as long as he kept talking to her. 

And that started with trying to get him to consider her perspective. 

What obstacles she had faced. What situations she was thrown in.

She needed to him to comprehend the extreme loneliness that plagued her. She needed him to comprehend the intense despair that consumed her.

She found him in the lab, moving things about with force.

_He was angry._

She begged him to understand.

He told her he understood all of it. 

**_Everything._ **

"Well then, why won’t you talk to me?” She demanded, her emotions high. 

Her eyes wet. 

He didn’t answer.

She was hurting too. 

Couldn’t he see that? 

_She was hurting too._

And **not** just because of **W** -

And he still wouldn’t - 

“What are you doing?” 

He typed forcefully on the keyboard and gestured to the monitor in a manner that - 

 _He was angry_.

He stepped back a bit, breathing hard.

He stepped back a bit, so she could come around the desk and peer at the screen. 

And what she saw

**and**

**what**

**she**

**saw**

It was tests and schematics and composition readings of the - the 

M O N O L I T H

_Did that -_

_Did that mean -_

She had told him that she needed to get back there. 

And then had meticulously, painfully, **gut-wrenchingly**  explained why. 

But **this** -

She looked up at him in wonder. 

And he was finally looking back at her. 

Her breath caught.

Because in his eyes, she found more **devotion** and **dedication** and **determination** and **LOVE** than she ever thought possible. 

She saw pain too. 

He didn’t try to hide it either. 

 _Clearly_ , she had hurt him. 

But - right then - he didn’t - he didn’t _dwell_ on - 

**“We’re gonna get him back.”**

His words left no room for argument. No room for second guessing. 

He just stood there, his eyes daring her to contradict him. 

She could only mouth a muddied  _thank you_  through her sob. 

His gaze on her remained steadfast. 

And - right then - under the most inappropriate of circumstances - she fell a bit more in love with him. 

“Thank you,” she said again, a bit louder this time.

Fitz only nodded. 

And resumed his work. 

She stepped closer to him, taking the book off the desk and stepping aside to study the very thing that caused her so much grief and pain and Will so much grief and pain and Fitz so much grief and pain and - 

Her tears blurred her vision. 

She could barely see the page. 

This wouldn’t do.

“I’m working on developing a simulation,” Fitz’s voice cut through the silence.

She tried to ignore - tried not to notice - how hoarse he sounded. 

She sniffed, wiping her eyes. 

“Oh?” She began, unsteadily. “That sounds like a...” She tried to give him an encouraging grin. 

She failed.

He tried to give her one in return.

He pulled out the desk chair a little and tilted his head, towards it. 

Her lips twitched in an almost smile. 

They weren’t on a date. 

They **definitely** weren’t on a date. 

This wasn’t like the ones she had daydreamed about on Maveth.

She wasn’t in a dress. A messy ponytail couldn’t even _begin_ to describe her hair. She wasn’t wearing makeup. Her face was caked with tears, and there was a fair amount of snot building up to where she had sniffle constantly. Her eyes were puffy and red. He wasn’t in a dashing ensemble.

But he pulled out the chair for her. 

They weren’t on a date. 

But - _oh._

How she wished they were. 

How she wished they were a normal couple, navigating the newness and awkwardness of first dates. 

How she wished they were a normal couple, silently contemplating on which restaurant to choose. 

Yet, instead, they were **not** a couple. And there was silence between the two - not because they had run out of things to talk about (like she had feared). Not because they were thinking about restaurants or _who was going to make the first move?_  or whatever else.

_No._

The silence between them was more painful. 

More heartbreaking. 

But then he nudged a box of tissues in her direction. 

And their fingers met when she took it from him. 

And in the same way the flare Fitz fired to bring her home...

The sparks from the small touch renewed a sense of hope within her.

They would navigate through this odd situation. 

She was certain of it.

But, more importantly, they would navigate through this odd situation  _together_.

-

Check out **[That’s a Little Bit More than a Best Friend](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7223809) ** where Jemma uses her endless time on Maveth to contemplate her relationship with Fitz (also the entry to the “What Leopold Fitz, Engineer Extraordinaire, Means to Me”), **[Yeah, I Figured](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7667776/chapters/18916429) ** that delves into Will’s point-of-view, and [**I Understand Everything**  ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6950593/chapters/17053062)that explores the days after the Will reveal and how Fitz deals with it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For week 4 of #fsww. 
> 
> Don’t hesitate to send me prompts. I haven’t forgotten all of the prompts I’ve been given either. Each one is in my drafts! :)


	41. Go Deface a Picasso

It had been two days after...

After _they..._

It had been two days. 

They kept working side-by-side, but it was difficult for him. 

He suspected it was difficult for her too. 

Because all he had to do was close his eyes - just for a - just for a _moment_ \- and he could almost _feel_ her lips on his and the way they melded together in his arms and the way she held his face. 

He could almost _see_ the way she reacted to him after he kissed her impulsively the first time. Through heavily lidded eyes, he could see hers focussed on his lips until - 

He can’t believe what happened _happened_. And it was all so fucking bittersweet because she admitted - to his face - that she loved Will. 

But he could - he could almost _tell_ that she loved him too. She had alluded to her feelings before - of course. They had discussed them a bit. Fought about them a bit. This wasn’t new information.

But the way she kissed him? 

It was an entirely different level of confirmation.

And he really wanted it to happen again. 

Yet. 

They awkwardly navigated around each other, working together to figure out a way to bring her boyfriend back.

It was a sickening sort of torture.

And it had only been two days.

-

He excused himself from the lab at one point to brew some tea. 

She politely declined his offer for some, pointing nonchalantly to the mug next to her. 

He left without another word.

He heard the kettle whistling before he stepped foot in the kitchen and spotted Hunter preparing a cup.

“Enough hot water there?” 

“Sure, mate. Plenty for you and Simmons.” 

Fitz bristled just a little bit. “I meant... just for me. She doesn’t want any.” 

Hunter stared at him. “Something’s going on with you two. You’re both acting weirder than normal.” 

Fitz selected his tea bag and placed it in a mug he retrieved from the cabinet. “I don’t know what you want me to say. She doesn’t want tea. End of story.” 

“Woa.” Hunter passed the kettle to Fitz. “Obviously, that’s not what I meant. And you’re being awfully defensive.” 

Fitz rolled his eyes, pouring the water into his mug. 

“Something _did_ happen, didn’t it?” 

Fitz threw up his hands. “I kissed her, okay? Was that what you wanted to hear? I kissed her, and we’re still rescuing her boyfriend, and that’s that.” 

Hunter nodded a bit and sat down at the counter with his cup.

And then all that been building within him for two days - all that had been building within him for two months - suddenly rose to the surface. 

And Hunter was the unsuspecting bystander. 

Fitz started to pace furiously. “I was just so - she and I have been working so hard at figuring out how to rescue Will, and I keep having these dark thoughts of resentment for helping him, yet I hid it from her, apparently, because she thought everything was just so bloody peachy with me, so she provoked me and I... I just exploded.” 

“Into her mouth?” 

Fitz grimaced.

_Really?_

Hunter pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, that was tasteless... even for me. Sorry, mate. Carry on.” 

“It got to the point where we were just yelling at each other. And I asked her point blank if she loved Will.” 

“And I’m guessing...” Hunter began slowly. 

“She does, okay? She bloody does. And she has every right to - that’s not. I don’t... Will saved her life. Will gave her hope. And all I do is muck things up.” 

“You don’t really think -” 

“Who the hell knows, Hunter? It’s just like I told her. He really is the perfect guy for her. And loved her enough to make her return possible. That every decision he made was the right one. Of course she’s going to fall for someone that brave and selfless and charming. And then she fired back with... something... something I wasn’t expecting.” 

“And what was that?” Hunter stood up and quietly made his way to the fridge, pulling two beers out and handing one to Fitz. “This is a more appropriate beverage option than tea, wouldn’t you say?” 

Fitz nodded mutely and twisted the cap off the bottle. 

“So what did she say?” 

Fitz took a long pull from his beer and then said quietly, “That I dove through a hole in the universe for her.” 

Hunter shrugged. “Well, you did. Tell me something I don’t know.” 

“Yeah, but the _way_ she said it... it was like... and she was looking at me in such a different way...in a way that finally allowed me to really, to really _see_ how she felt. In a way that told me that she may have been as in love with me as I am with her.” 

Fitz chuckled humorlessly, staring at his beer, lost in his thoughts. 

Lost in his thoughts of...

After a few minutes, Hunter cleared his throat. "You gonna fill me in on what happened next, or do I have to make my best educated guess?” 

“Don’t know what came over me,” Fitz mumbled. “I just - I just sorta grabbed her and kissed her.” 

After taking a long sip, Hunter finally muttered, “It’s about damn time if you ask me.” 

Fitz scoffed. 

“Well come on, then. What was her reaction? Did she hit you or... better yet, did she return the favor?” Hunter waggled his eyebrows.

Fitz looked down, but he could feel his cheeks heat up all the same.

 _Busted_.

Hunter slapped the counter with unnecessary force. “Bloody hell! She did!” 

“Would you please keep your voice down?”  

“I knew you had in you, mate.” 

Fitz smiled grimly. “You know there was a big part of me that wanted the kiss to be terrible. That if I could... _kiss_ her, and it turned out to be too weird, then we could put all this to rest. She could be with Will, and I wouldn’t care because there was nothing physical between us.” 

Hunter started tapping the counter in an unrhythmic pattern. “We both know that’s a bunch of bullshit.” 

“You don’t think I’d stop feeling this way if I could? That if I could stop feeling like I’ve been punched in the stomach repeatedly, I would?” 

“I just mean, you and I both know there was always something there between you two.” 

Fitz sprang up from the chair he had been occupying. “Of course there was! And now, we both know it. Officially. _Great_.” 

“She kissed you back. That means something, Fitz.” 

Fitz shrugged. “Yeah, great. We kissed. It was consensual. Doesn’t change the fact that she still loves another guy on another planet.” 

“She loves you too.” 

“And how does that possibly help our situation right now?” 

“All I’m saying is... she’s probably feeling as sick as you are about it.” 

Fitz huffed. “ _Great_.” 

“Hey come on, you know what I mean. She probably wants to snog your face off and is bloody annoyed she can’t.” 

Fitz sighed. “Well, it doesn’t matter, does it? Because she’s taken, okay? She has a boyfriend who saved her life and really needs our help, and both of them deserve to have each other. They deserve to be happy.” 

“And what do you deserve, Fitz?” 

"As long as she’s alive and safe and happy with the one she loves, then that’s enough. I just wish I actually bloody felt that way.” 

“And what if the one she loves is you? What if she picks _you_?"

“ _Picks_ me? This isn’t about some stupid prom at secondary school. Will isn’t going to waltz in with a leather jacket and sweep her off her feet.” 

“What secondary school did you _go_ to?” 

“This isn’t like any of those ridiculous romantic movies. They needed each other at the planet. They have a bond I can’t compete with.” 

“I’m sorry, but what did Daisy say about you two? Something about being ‘psychically linked’?” 

“Your point?” 

“ _Fitz._  Stop moping, and bloody _fight_ for her.” 

_What does he think he’s been **doing** the whole time? Sitting back and twiddling his thumbs? He’s been fighting for her for years. He’s been fighting for her even before he knew what he was doing. _

_Didn’t Hunter understand what he was doing? Didn’t Hunter get it?_

“I **am** fighting for her. I’m fighting for her happiness.” 

Hunter stared at him an incredibly long time before finally saying, “ _Mate._ When are you going to get it through your thick skull that her happiness includes **you**?” 

Fitz gaped at him, and Hunter gave a final nod and dumped his tea in the sink, leaving his mug there too. He tossed the empty beer bottle in the recycling bin, patted Fitz's shoulder twice, and left Fitz alone in the kitchen.

He couldn’t admit that there as truth to Hunter’s statement. Not to Hunter. Not to Jemma. Not to himself.

Because if he did, then... then that would mean there was _hope_ for them. 

And the minute that cursed individuals latch onto a bit of hope, it always always **always** is cruelly and brutally ripped away from them. 

He couldn’t admit it. 

So he settled for closing his eyes. 

And almost _almost_ **almost** felt her lips back on his. 

They were cursed. 

But he had this one memory. 

This one perfect memory. 

And he could ignore the fighting beforehand and stilted conversation afterward. 

And just focus on the blessed middle. 

Where her lips were on his, and his lips were on hers, and their breaths mingled, and their hearts mingled, and he could fool himself into thinking of how content she was to remain his arms. 

He brought his fingers to his cheek, following the path her fingernails had traced. 

He settled for that one perfect memory. 

Of her lips on his. 

And that - he almost succeeded in convincing himself that was all he needed.

He didn’t dare hope for more. 

-

Check out **[The Bloody Cosmos](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6950593/chapters/17115496)** to get a play-by-play account of _the kiss_ from Fitz’s perspective and **[He Did Everything Right](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7528966)** for Jemma’s. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For week 5 of #fsww. 
> 
> Part of what Fitz says to Hunter was inspired by the interview Iain and Elizabeth gave about the episode. Especially when Elizabeth says: 
> 
> “That’s when they know…because I think both of them were probably hoping that it would be terrible, because then the situation is just resolved. But it wasn’t, it was really nice. So Fitz says that they’re cursed, because they can’t see a way through it.” 
> 
> Prompts are still so welcome, and I haven't forgotten any of the ones I've been given. They're all in my drafts!


	42. Too Fast?

_**TEN** _

“Fitz? Fitz? _Fitz!”_

“Mmmmmhmph.” 

Really, he should’ve expected the pillow coming. Didn’t make the impact any less unpleasant.

“Wake up.” 

Fitz rubbed his eyes and sat up slowly. “I’ll be fine tomorrow, Simmons. I’m a genius, remember?” 

“Geniuses still need to study for their exams.” 

Fitz scoffed. “I beg to differ.”

Jemma got up from his desk walking over to his bed, plopping herself next to him. 

“What are you doing here?”

Jemma shrugged. “I figured a closer proximity might keep you awake.” 

“That’s the dumbest thing I ever - _ow_!” 

“See?” Jemma asked brightly. “I can just hit you every time you’re tempted.” 

“But Simmons,” Fitz whined. “I haven’t gotten a good night’s rest in weeks. I think sleep will do nothing but enhance my test-taking mastery tomorrow.” 

“I don’t disagree. But it’s only 9:30.” 

“Well, you know what they say. It’s midnight somewhere. _Ow_! I wasn’t even sleeping.” 

“That ill-conceived argument was so ridiculous, you deserved it.” 

Fitz scooched back on his bed until his back was against the wall. “Crazy we’re graduating already, isn’t it?” 

Jemma glanced over at him. “Yeah, it is.” 

“I’ve been meaning to say to you... that is... I’m just... I’m really glad we’re going to be in Sci-Ops together.” 

Jemma chuckled. “Well, I couldn’t possibly dream of working without you now, could I? We’re too good together.” 

“I concur.” 

Jemma started reading again before lifting her head up, scooting herself back in alignment with Fitz. “I’m really... you know, I’m quite glad we found each other, Fitz.” She paused, playing with a bit of his blanket before looking back at him. “You understand me in a way that no one ever has.” 

“I feel the same way,” Fitz smiled, putting his hand on her knee. 

“I mean it. I’m really fortunate to have you in my life.”

Fitz shook his head. “I’m the lucky one.” 

They both returned to their books, filling the room with silence once more. 

And twenty minutes later, Fitz fell promptly asleep.

_“Ow!”_

_“Stay awake.”_

_“How would you like it if I hit you?”  
_

_Jemma rolled her eyes. “You wouldn’t hit a girl.”_

_“I don’t know, Simmons. I’m all for equal - well, okay. You have a point. But I can do this.”  
_

_He tackled her on his bed, and she dissolved into giggles. It took him a minute to realize their precarious position._

_Him hovering over her, holding her wrists above her head._

_Her eyes never leaving his. Her chest heaving._

_They were a bloody Harlequin romance cover._

_Mesmerized, he slowly leaned down, pecking her lips softly._

_Once he realized what he’d done, he quickly scrambled off of her, sitting on his heels._

_Jemma mirrored him._

_He couldn’t bring himself to speak._

_She didn’t either._

_“Well, I’m awake now,” he muttered.  
_

_She laughed, reaching for his hand._

_“Me too.”  
_

_Neither of them got anymore studying done after that._

_Jemma still graduated top of her class._

_-_

_**NINE** _

Their lab space was far bigger in Sci-Ops than the one they had at the Academy, and FitzSimmons had fallen into a steady rhythm, working side-by-side. 

They bounced ideas off each other, argued, bickered, reconciled, and solved whatever the issue was before lunch. 

It was quite a perfect set-up, really. 

“I don’t understand why you won’t ask her out. She’s obviously very interested.” 

Fitz looked up from the computer and tilted his head in confusion. 

“Gretchen.” 

“Ah. Right.” 

“She’s very pretty. Your really should call her up,” Jemma insisted. 

“Oh. Well. The thing is...” Fitz wondered why he was having such a hard time formulating the words. 

What was wrong with him? 

“The thing is,” Fitz continued. “The thing is that I already did.” 

Jemma peered at him through her goggles. 

“Oh,” she simply said. 

“Yeah.” 

“Well, then.” She busied herself with her project once more, and Fitz hoped that meant she had dropped the subject. 

As far as first dates had gone... the one he had with Gretchen was simply the _worst_. 

After ten minutes, she asked the dreaded question. 

“So, how did it go?” 

“Umm...” 

Jemma bit her lip. “You know, you don’t have to share _everything_ about the date. And I understand if you’re uncomfortable talking about it with me. In fact, _please_ don’t share every-” 

“Wait. You think Gretchen and I...?” 

“Well, obviously! That’s why you’re being so guarded about it.” Jemma huffed. 

“That’s not what happened, Simmons.” 

“Then why won’t you tell me?” 

Fitz rubbed the back of his neck. “’Cause it’s embarrassing.” 

“Oh?” He could see Jemma trying to hide a smile. 

“I picked her up, and we went to a movie. She had said before that she liked horror films, so I took her to _Hannibal Rising.”_

Jemma wrinkled her nose. “That’s romantic.” 

“I thought so. Would’ve given me the perfect opportunity for me to put my arm around her. Comfort her. That sort of thing.” 

“I see your point.” 

“Well, she lied, or I misunderstood, or... something. Turns out she _hates_ horror and screamed in my ear the entirety of the film.” 

“Did her screams drown out yours?” 

“Hey!” 

Jemma raised an eyebrow. “Did they?” 

“...Yes.” 

He stood up from his desk. “So we leave the theater, and I took her to a nice Italian restaurant.” 

“Giovanni’s?” 

“Yep. And as we’re ordering, she tells the waiter she can’t have tomatoes, cheese, wheat, or chicken.” 

“Oh, Fitz.” 

“ _After_ I had ordered a nice _spag bol_ for myself. So I’m there eating my delicious meal while she picks at her salad. Feeling like a total wank about the whole thing. And she and I are just sitting there. In silence. For twenty minutes.” 

Jemma took off her goggles, fully invested in the tale. 

“So then she finally asks me about my new projects. And as I start to list each one, she grows even more quiet, which I didn’t think was possible at this point.” 

He conveniently left out _why_ she grew quiet about it. 

He conveniently left out what Gretchen told him that made him choke on his wine. 

She was way off-base. 

And he didn’t want to make things weird. 

The last thing he wanted was for things to change. 

“And?” 

“And that was that. She stops talking the rest of the evening. Thanks me for a lovely date. And insists on taking a taxi home.” 

“All of this sounds awful, mind, but not irreparable. You should give it another go with her.” 

“Yeah, maybe.”

He had no intention of doing that.

_“Why?” Fitz spoke up again, minutes later.  
_

_“Pardon?”  
_

_“Why do you insist on me asking her out again?”  
_

_Jemma took off her goggles again. “I don’t know.”_

_“You don’t?”  
_

_“No.”  
_

_Fitz started to pace around the lab._

_“There’s no way she’ll agree to a second date.”  
_

_“You don’t know that.”  
_

_“Pretty sure I do.”  
_

_“You can’t. Look. I know you think your date was horrendous, but she really seems to -”  
_

_"Want to know why? Because the minute she asked about my projects, I ended up talking about you the entire night.”  
_

_Jemma stood still. “...What?”_

_“She thinks I’m in love with you.”  
_

_“Well, that’s... that’s...”_

_Fitz slowly advanced towards her. “Why did you want to know about my date so badly?”_

_“Can’t a... can’t a girl be interested in her best friend’s dating life?”  
_

_Fitz paused, pretending to think. “I suppose.” He continued to make his way towards her. “But that’s not why you asked.”_

_“No?” Jemma smirked. A challenge._

_“No,” Fitz murmured, enveloping her in his arms and kissing her.  
_

_“You know,” Jemma said breathlessly once they broke away. “I know the perfect movie for us to see this weekend.”  
_

_“_ Pirates of the Caribbean? _”  
_

_“_ Paranormal Activity _.”  
_

_Fitz groaned._

-

_**EIGHT** _

“FitzSimmons?” 

They both spun around to gawk at the man standing before them. 

“Simmons,” Jemma said, pointing at Fitz, 

“Fitz,” Fitz said, pointing to Jemma. 

Agent Coulson bore a confused expression. 

Oh.

Right. 

“Oh! _I’m_ Fitz. That’s Simmons,” Fitz laughed nervously, extending his hand towards the man. 

Agent Coulson shook it firmly, and Fitz willed himself not to wince from the grip. 

Nailed it. 

“He’s engineering, and I’m a biochemist,” Jemma informed while shaking the agent’s hand. 

“Dr. Weaver told me about you two. I’ve had my eye on you for awhile. Though it took me months to realize that she was talking about two different people.” 

Jemma giggled. “We get that a lot, sir.” 

Agent Coulson looked back and forth between and Fitz and Jemma before finally saying, “I’ll bet.” 

Fitz chuckled with a nice dose of enthusiasm (he hoped). “Good one, sir.” 

“I didn’t...” 

Jemma sighed. “Ignore him.” 

“Keep working hard and learning all you can at Sci-Ops, you two. I have a feeling this isn’t the last we’ll see of each other.” 

And with that, he walked away with the swagger that only Agent Coulson possessed. 

That man was so bloody cool. 

Jemma gripped his arm excitedly. “ _Fitz_! _Phil Coulson_. Can you believe it?” 

“I need to pinch myself. I think I’m dreaming. _Ow._ ” Fitz gave Jemma a death stare. “ _Obviously,_ I was talking figuratively.” 

“My mistake.” 

“Right.” 

“What do you suppose he meant? ‘[T]his isn’t the last we’ll see of each other.’” 

“Terrible impression.” 

“I beg to differ.” 

Fitz shrugged. “I don’t know, Jemma. I just can’t believe he knew our names.” 

Jemma stopped walking. She closed her eyes and lifted her face to the sun, smiling contently. 

“What the hell are you doing?” 

Jemma sighed. “Just taking in the gorgeous day.” 

“The day we met Agent Coulson?” 

“Exactly.” 

“You made a fool of yourself with him back there. He has to - what - be the age of your father?” 

Jemma snapped open her eyes to stick out her tongue. “For your information, he is much younger than my dad, and I wasn’t trying to flirt. Though I will admit, he is a rather handsome older gentleman.” 

“I’m going to be sick.” 

Jemma slapped his arm. “I just have this feeling, you know? This feeling that this was the beginning of something.” 

“The beginning of a romance between the mentor and the mentee?” 

“Bugger off.” 

“Last one. Sorry.” 

“He said it, Fitz. He said he’s been admiring us. This could mean big things for us, you know.” 

“I get it, Jemma. I do. I’m still a bit starstruck to be honest.” 

_Fitz paused, staring at her blinding smile and sparkling eyes in the golden rays of the sun. He looked past her to take in the surroundings of the Sci-Ops courtyard._

_“But that feeling you’re talking about? I don’t feel it.”  
_

_“Oh?”  
_

_“Let me clarify. I don’t feel it right now.”  
_

_“But you have?” Jemma studied his expression.  
_

_Fitz nodded bravely. “Once.”_

_“When?”  
_

_“It was during another introduction. Years ago.”  
_

_Jemma’s breath caught. “Oh?”_

_“The day I met you.”  
_

_Jemma froze._

_“Look,” Fitz began to back-peddle. “I didn’t say that to -”  
_

_Jemma’s lips cut him off._

_And - quite frankly - her intuition was right._

_It_ was _the beginning of something._

-

_**SEVEN** _

“Why can’t you just be civil towards him?” Jemma threw her hands up in exasperation the minute the door to her apartment closed.

“ _Me_? Excuse me for not wanting to converse with a guy who takes _your_ side in every discussion we have. How’d he even make it this far in training anyway?”

Jemma stared Fitz down.

“And just what are you implying?”

Fitz put his hands on his hips. “I’m not _implying_ anything. I’ll say it straight. He’s a moron.”

“ _Fitz_.”

“What? It’s true. You’re just too biased to see it.”

Jemma huffed. “Is there something so wrong about having a partner who can be amiable with?”

Fitz shrugged. “’Course not. But that’s not what this is.”

“Do enlighten me.”

“Milton knows exactly what he’s doing by saying what you want to hear, or he doesn’t have a brain to formulate independent thought at all. Either way makes him the absolute worst in my book.”

“Your book, huh?”

“Yeah, my book! Hey, don’t forget your choices in your personal life affect me too. I have to be around the men you choose to sleep with, you know? The least you could do is ask for my input.”

“Yes, Fitz,” Jemma said dryly. “How rude of me to not involve you in _my_ personal life. My sincere apologies.”

Fitz smirked. “That’s all I’m asking.”

Jemma rolled her eyes and folded the empty pizza box into the recycling bin.

“Don’t you find it a bit boring, Jemma?” Fitz asked while turning on the faucet and washing the glasses he gathered.

“I don’t know what you’re -”

“Don’t you want to be with someone who - who _challenges_ you?”

Jemma stared at him, breathing deeply. “I don’t...”

“Someone who forces you to be your _best_ self.” Having already placed the clean cups in the drying rack, he leaned against the counter, feeling his shirt moisten from the excess water.

Brilliant.

It bothered him a lot that Jemma was with Milton. In ways he couldn’t decipher. Milton was a nice enough guy, but for some reason, he really, _really_ got under Fitz’s skin.

_Oh._

_OH._

_“Someone who isn’t afraid to argue with you if you’re wrong.” Fitz inched nearer to her, willing his hand to stop shaking. “Because - let’s face it - sometimes, you are.”_

_Jemma side-stepped him. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m usually the smartest person in any room. So where would I find such an individual?”_

_His hands were wet and soapy from the sink, and hers were greasy from the trash, but none of that mattered when he grabbed her arm, pulled her towards him, and kissed her passionately._

_One arm snaked around her middle and the other wound up in her hair, and a few soapy water droplets trailed down her cheek because of it, but she didn’t seem to mind._

_He let go of her as quickly as he grabbed her._

_The ball was in her court, so to speak._

_“Isn’t a little bit of a contradiction a good thing?” His voice grew more and more hoarse with each word._

_She took a step towards him and then twirled around, grabbing her coat and keys._

_“Where are you going?” He turned around, dreading the answer.  
_

_“I’m going to go break up with Milton.”  
_

_He spun to face her again, daring to..._

_She flung her arms around his neck, giving him a quick peck. “Wish me luck,” she whispered._

_"Maybe don’t look so excited about it.”_

_“Right.”  
_

_Milton was a nice guy after all._

_-_

_**SIX** _

“Jemma?”

“Down here!”

Fitz slowly descended the stairs to find Jemma in his mum’s living room, sprawled out with a cup of tea and flipping through channels.

His mum had left for work for the day (but not before throwing him an embarrassing little grin), so he and Jemma had the house to themselves.

They were staying in Scotland for a couple weeks, recovering from one-too-many hits in training for the field. His fractured rib and her broken ankle made them quite the duo - and quite useless - at Sci-Ops, so their S.O. suggested they go somewhere more peaceful to recoup and work.

He knew just the place.

And Jemma readily agreed.

“How’s the ankle?” 

Jemma eyed her cast wearily. “Fine. I’m just going crazy from sitting all day.” 

Fitz nodded. “I know what you mean. Going a bit insane myself.” 

Jemma scooted over, so Fitz could join her on the sofa. 

“It’s quite lovely here, you know. This was a great idea.” 

Fitz smiled, nudging her softly. “Glad you approve.” 

“I could see myself living here. In fact, when I was a...” 

She trailed off, looking down at her cast, seemingly lost in thought. 

“Jemma?” 

She chuckled a little. “You know what I realized? You got to sign my cast, but I have yet to sign yours.” 

Fitz did a double-take. “You want to sign my bandage wrap?”

Jemma shrugged. “Sure, why not? It’s only fair. You got to sign mine. It’s my turn.” 

Fitz could feel his ears turn red. “ _Yours_ is in a hardened substance. And in plain sight. Mine is... well...” 

“Come on, Fitz. It’ll be a bonding experience. Cement our partnership.” 

“If we’re not partners by _now...”_

 _“Ugh_ , Fitz.” 

Fitz looked wildly around for an out. It wasn’t that he _didn’t_ want her to sign his bandage... it was just that... it seemed rather...

Intimate. 

And then he thought of a genius plan.

“You know, I would, but we haven’t got any pens. And I’m winded from walking down the stairs, and you...” He gestured to her cast. 

He had this in. the. bag. 

Jemma shook her head, smiling widely. She bent down to fetch her... _purse_.

Bloody hell. How could he miss that too-important variable? 

She triumphantly dug out her marking pen. “Now, go on. Lift up your shirt.” 

Fitz sighed. 

Defeat was a bitter mistress. 

He gripped his shirt’s hem and started to lift it little-by-little. The air felt cool on his heated skin, and he winced a bit from the stark temperature change. 

He caught her watching his fingers inch further and further up his abdomen. 

It made him uneasy. 

She leaned forward and placed one hand underneath his bandage to steady herself. 

He didn’t know why her touch unnerved him so much. 

Because his wrap was a soft fabric, he felt every stroke of her pen. He knew she was being as careful and delicate as possible, and he closed his eyes briefly until she had completed her task.

“There,” she said simply. 

He looked down, deciphering her upside-down (to him, at least) message: 

**Love, Jemma**

Jemma smiled shyly when she met his eyes. “I wanted to keep it short and sweet. Didn’t have a lot of room to work with.” 

He thought it was absolutely perfect.

_She reached up again, and with the lightest of touches, she traced her final product._

_He covered her hand in his._

_They stared at each other for what seemed like a millenia but was only just moments._

_And then._

_They slowly, lazily leaned in towards each other until their lips met._

_They broke away from the kiss, breathing heavily, gazing at each other. He reached up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear._

_And he was never more grateful for a fractured rib in his entire life._

_-_

_**FIVE** _

Fitz was glad that Jemma was just as excited to attend their alumni gala at the Academy as he was.

He thought it would require a bit more persuasion from his part.

“Oh, I can’t _wait_ to catch up with Dr. Weaver and Dr. Hall and -”

“Professor Vaughn.” 

Jemma raised an eyebrow at him. 

“What? I can grow fond of the guy now that I’m not in his class anymore.” 

“And perhaps gloat about the fact that you’re advancing so quickly in SciOps?” 

“Well... only if that were to - uh - you know, present itself into the conversation -”

“- which you will ensure will happen.” 

“Damn right, I will.” 

She smiled brightly in response, and he took that moment to take in her appearance. 

She looked really pretty in a tea-length cocktail dress with her hair down in waves and a fringe straight across. 

“I don’t know if I mentioned it yet, but I like your bangs, by the way. They suit you.” 

He didn’t know why it made him so happy to see her blush from his compliment. 

“Thanks very much.” 

Fitz shrugged, smiling. “Sure.” 

They found their name-tags, and Fitz chuckled when he read them: 

   **Leopold**  
**Fitz-**

  
**Jemma**  
**-Simmons**

“This is getting ridiculous.” 

Jemma bumped his shoulder with hers. “I kind of like it. We were quite the duo here, weren’t we?”

He handed her her name-tag and grinned widely when she put it on her chest with gusto. 

He followed suit. 

“Still are quite the duo if you ask me.” 

They separated for a bit, each making the rounds, greeting alumni and professors alike, and then reconvened at the food table.

“Best. Gala. Ever.” Fitz sighed, popping another prosciutto-wrapped scallop in his mouth. 

Jemma took a sip of her wine. “Seeing as how this is the first one you’ve attended, I should think so.” 

Fitz paused, mid-chew. “Hey, this is your first one too.” 

“Besides the point.” 

“ _FitzSimmons_.” 

Fitz swallowed his food, staring at the woman before them. He could see Jemma out of the corner of his eye look back and forth between the two before she finally said, “Hello, Lacy.” 

Lacy squealed. “I cannot _believe_ you guys are here together.” 

Jemma chuckled. “Well, you know what they say about us being a two-for-one special, and... and, um... they do say that about us, so...” 

She elbowed Fitz who had yet to say a word. 

“Ow.” He tore his gaze away from Lacy to reprimand Jemma, but Jemma merely tilted her head back towards Lacy, wordlessly encouraging him to respond. 

Right. 

“Yup,” Fitz finally said. “I’d like to think I’m the better half... if you know what I mean.” Fitz waggled his eyebrows in what he hoped was a seductive manner.

“Really?” Lacy asked, intrigued. 

“Ow. Simmons, that’s the second time. Cut it out.” 

“You two make such a cute couple,” Lacy gushed.

“Well, thank you. That’s very kind of you to - _what_?” 

“I was rooting for you two back in the Academy days. I thought it was so weird that two geniuses like yourselves hadn’t figured it out.” 

Jemma stepped forward. “We’re not - that is - Fitz and I aren’t -” 

“We’re not together, Lacy,” Fitz cut in. 

Lacy bit her lip and cringed. 

“I’m so sorry!” She stammered. “I just thought since you guys came here together, and you’re wearing those name-tags, and the way you were just now with... with... you know, I just saw an old classmate of mine. I’ll just...” She darted past them, and he and Jemma waited until she was out of earshot to start talking over each other. 

“Well, that was...” 

“I can’t believe she thought that -” 

“Awkward, to say the least.” 

“It’s a preposterous notion and -” 

“- a ridiculous one, that is.” 

“to think that you and I were -”

“that she thought we were -”

“ _Together_.” They said in perfect unison.

Their eyes met briefly before Jemma took a big gulp of her wine and he reached for another scallop.

And several hours later, when they were back at her apartment, a bit more tipsy, their eyes met briefly again. 

“Well, come in. You can crash on my couch for the night.” 

Fitz nodded, following her inside.

And because of the wine currently in his system, he let his thoughts tumble out. “That was interesting what... what Lacy said, wasn’t it?” 

Jemma handed him a glass of water. “I suppose.” 

“She said we hadn’t figured it out at the Academy.” 

Jemma scoffed. “What does she know? She was there _all_ six years for her schooling.” 

_“Jemma.” He took a sip of water and then placed it on the counter._

_He took a step closer to her._

_“What are you doing?”_

_“I just want to... to see for myself what Lacy was rooting for.”_

_He grabbed her hand hesitantly, and he could feel her eyes watch his every move._

_He ran his hand slowly up her arm, watching his fingers trail each part of her freckled skin. He stopped at her shoulder and was shocked to see her eyes dilated with want._

_They feverishly collided, their hands roaming, their lips crashing against each other again and again.. Only coming up for air when absolutely necessary._

_Best._

_Gala._

_EVER._

_**-** _

_**FOUR** _

Fitz opened the door.

“Simmons?” 

“I couldn’t sleep.” 

He stepped aside to let her in, and when he closed the door. She launched herself in his arms. He could feel her shaking.

“You’re upset about Agent Coulson.” 

He wasn’t asking.

She sniffed loudly, pulling herself away from him and wiping her eyes. 

He crossed the living room in two strides, retrieving his box of tissues he had placed on the coffee table (for... for _reasons_ ). She followed him and accepted the box gratefully. 

“I know we only spoke with him a handful of times. And he probably didn’t remember us. But his death...” 

Fitz brought his arms back around her. “I know.” 

She rested her head on his chest, squeezing his middle tightly. 

“I couldn’t sleep either,” Fitz continued. 

_And then._

_He didn’t know if it was the weariness of the past few days they both endured, grieving the fallen agent. He didn’t know if it was the many hours of sleep that eluded them. He didn’t know if it was the warm, comforting presence she provided in his arms._

_But whatever the reason, he slowly cupped her face, wiping the tears from her cheeks his thumb._

_She gasped at the intimate gesture._

_He couldn’t break away from her gaze._

_And all reason left him the moment he trailed his thumb down to her lips, and he became fascinated with the way her bottom lip followed the path of his thumb._

_She didn’t move away._

_And he didn’t either._

_And then he kissed her._

_And wondered if he was being tasteless while they were both in mourning for their esteemed acquaintance._

_But when she kissed him back?_

_He found himself lacking the resolve to care about appropriate behavior._

_-_

_**THREE** _

“Oh, Fitz, it's the most perfect opportunity for us to see the world! We'd be fools to pass this one up!"

They were at her favorite pub in Sheffield in the middle of an all too familiar debate. 

Fitz leaned back in the booth, closing his eyes. 

“Fitz?” Jemma pressed. 

“I’m still trying to process the fact that Agent Coulson is still alive. And not only is he alive, but he now wants us to join his team? In the _sky_?” 

“I know!” Jemma squealed. He opened his eyes to catch her taking a full swig of her beer. “Isn’t this exciting?” 

“That’s not the word I would use.” 

Jemma huffed, crossing her arms. “Well, I’m not going without you.” 

Fitz set his beer down. “Why?” 

“I don’t -” Jemma stammered under his steady gaze. “Agent Coulson wants us both. He told Weaver we’re a package deal.” 

For some reason, he winced a little from her answer. “That’s it, then? That’s the whole reason why you _coerced_ me to stay with your family for a month on holiday after graduation? To try to convince me to join Agent Coulson’s team?” 

Jemma paused. “Why... why are you being like this?” 

“Being like what?” Fitz countered. 

“Like... “ Her eyes shifted uneasily. “I don’t know what’s got you so upset, but you _know_ I don’t want to work anywhere without you. You’re my very best friend, Fitz. And if you don’t want to do this, then... we can finally give Weaver our answer.” 

Fitz started to peel the label of his bottle. 

“I didn’t say that,” he muttered. 

“What?” 

“I didn’t... you’re right. Let’s do it.” 

“ _What_?” 

“Yeah.” He stopped picking at the label and lifted his beer bottle in salute. “A toast.” 

Jemma lifted her own bottle. 

“To seeing the world with my best friend -”

“- and using science to do it. Cheers.” 

“Cheers.” 

They clinked the necks of their bottles together, smiling widely. 

“Another round!” Jemma exclaimed. “This is cause for celebration!” 

“Jemma,” Fitz protested. “We’ve already had two. And aren’t you always going on about the unnecessary calories?” 

Jemma pursed her lips. “I suppose you’re right...” 

Fitz sighed gratefully. 

_She sauntered off to God-knows-where and then returned with two shot glasses._

_“...which is why we’ll drink tequila instead.”  
_

_Fitz groaned._

_And after they each had three shots, the excitement of their new adventure and the pleasant numbing from the alcohol continued to course through the both of them._

_She slid into Fitz’s side of the table until her hips were flush against his._

_Her cheeks were rosy._

_They probably matched his._

_She started giggling at nothing which caused him to giggle at nothing, and their faces inched closer and closer together._

_He wasn’t sure who initiated it, but a couple minutes later, he found himself snogging the hell out of his very best friend, Jemma Simmons._

_And he really, really liked it._

_-_

_**TWO** _

“I’m not Hydra.” 

“We heard... everything.” 

Jemma ran to Fitz, flinging herself in his arms. He gripped her tightly to him.

_They stayed like that, unaware that all other personnel had cleared out of the room. He pulled back to study her face, and she pulled back to study his._

_He had been so worried about her._

_And before he could stop himself, he hugged her to him more firmly and kissed her._

_Her lips were frozen against his, and he cursed himself for being so impulsive._

_So reckless._

_He tore his lips away from hers and let go of her all in one motion, scrubbing a hand over his face._

_Now he’d done it._

_“Sorry. That was... that... ”  
_

_When he removed his hand, automatically cringing at the situation, he realized she had stepped closer to him._

_“FitzSimmons?” Coulson’s voice broke the spell._

_Jemma spun around a bit too enthusiastically._

_“Sir?”_

_“We found Ward and Skye. Let’s go.” And then he was gone.  
_

_Jemma glanced back up at Fitz, biting her lip._

_Fitz stared up at the ceiling, wishing the Bus would crash through and rescue him from his discomfort._

_Didn’t even need a pilot. Just the Bus itself would do._

_“Can we... can we just forget about what... what just happened?”  
_

_Jemma sighed. “Oh, Fitz.”_

_And then she grabbed his face and smooched him soundly._

_-_

_**ONE** _

“Seems the two of them are in love with each other.” 

“Whatever that is, it’s not love.” 

“No,” Fitz scoffed. “Of course not.” 

He paused a bit and then, “Hey, thank you for packing the sandwich before I left. It was really delicious.” 

Jemma smiled warmly. “Oh. You’re quite welcome.” 

_She looked down at her shoes before meeting his eyes again. “It was - I actually wanted to - it was my way of - I’m just very, very happy we’re friends again.”_

_Fitz nodded. “Me too.”_

_“And,” Jemma began. “I’m not sure if - it’s just - I’d like to - I’d like to talk to you about - about what you said to me on the bottom of the ocean.”  
_

_Fitz stared at her, mouth agape. “S-sorry?”_

_Jemma balled up her hands in fists. “We were - we’ve been fighting quite a lot, and I’ve wanted to bring it up before, but it just - the timing never seemed right, you know?”_

_“And... you... you think_ now _is a good - a good time to...?”_

_“No! I mean... I don’t know. We don’t have to... I just. Excuse me.”  
_

_She hurriedly left the lab._

_He continued to sit._

_Dazed._

_And then got up and followed her._

_He stopped outside her bunk, knocking softly three times._

_“Come in,” came the muffled reply. Followed by an equally muffled sniffle.  
_

_Was she - was she crying?_

_He gingerly opened the door and stepped inside. Jemma stood up from her bed, wiping her eyes._

_“Hey,” Fitz murmured.  
_

_“Hi.”  
_

_“About what I said about what you... “ Fitz lamely gestured back in the general direction of the lab with his thumb.  
_

_Jemma shook her head. “It was stupid of me to bring it up.”_

_“It wasn’t stupid.” Fitz took one step closer. “I just...” Fitz sighed. He took another step. “I just thought there was nothing left to discuss.”_

_His breath caught when she met his gaze with hers. She took his hand._

_“Maybe there is.”  
_

_They stared at each other a couple of moments more, drinking each other in. Then he used the hand that was still in hers to pull her closer to him._

_His eyes full of questions._

_Her eyes full of answers._

_He brought his other hand up under her chin, leaned in, and kissed her with a tenderness he thought was all but lost._

_They pulled back slowly in perfect unison. He leaned his forehead against hers._

_“’Maybe’?” He whispered teasingly.  
_

_Jemma giggled._

_“Most assuredly there is.” She grinned before kissing him again._

_-_

_**NOW** _

Fitz stretched out on the sofa in the common room, his hands behind his head, thinking about those words. 

**_It’s been ten years. We can’t waste anymore time._ **

And right. She had a point. He supposed they could’ve been happy at any point during that time frame had they realized what was between them. 

He did say it himself, screaming it at her, back in the lab. 

**_We had_ years. **

But would it have been as perfect as this night? Minus the whole Daisy turning on them drama, of course. 

Initially, he had cursed his impulsive nature once more. When he leaned in and then _dived in_ to steal a few kisses from her. 

And then her words had reassured him, and her sparkling eyes had reassured him, and her _lips_ had reassured him, and they reveled in each other. Enjoyed each other. And it was the perfect moment. Well, it was the perfect many moments strung together. 

And he wondered if it had happened years ago, if it would have been as perfect.

_**I’m tired of seeing our friends ripped apart from each other. That can’t happen to us again. I won’t let it.  
** _

_**Then we won’t let it.**  
_

He couldn’t say. 

All he knew was that kissing Jemma was an out-of-this-world experience. And he’d dive through a hundred holes in the universe to do it again and again and again. 

-

Check out  **[Who Needs Space](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6950593/chapters/17318485)**  and **[Something Magnificent](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7667776/chapters/18461812)** , play-by-play in-depth narratives of the bunk scene (with a few additional ones) from Fitz and Simmons’s point-of-view, respectively. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy My-Birthday, everyone! Here is ten fluffy scenarios of FitzSimmons through the ages (that all end in happy kissing, mind) to celebrate. 
> 
> Ladies and gentlemen, I present mega-Glimpse. The longest thing I’ve written to date. And I was struck with inspiration for it two nights ago. 
> 
> I wrote this backwards. This is the first time I’ve ever written anything out of order. It was a challenge but super fun! 
> 
> Also! The “[i]t’s been ten years” thing always bothered me because if she was referring to how long they’ve known each other, it was really more along the lines of twelve/thirteen years, right? So this is my way of reconciling the two bits of canon in a way where neither contradicts. 
> 
> Also! FitsSimmons mention having Dr. Hall their second year in “The Asset”, and Fitz mentions them graduation three years early in “Repairs” and then Jemma says “third year” in “Absolution” so I’m just making the call that both of their concentrations were typically a six-year program that they completed in three.
> 
> For week five of #fsww.


	43. Effortless, Really

It was quite a strange feeling. 

To be lying next to your best friend in a foreign bed.

To be lying next to your best friend in a foreign bed with no clothes on. 

To be lying next to your best friend in a foreign bed with no clothes on after having sex. 

And the strange thing about it was how the strange feeling was blindingly familiar. 

It was blindingly familiar to be lying next to your best friend in a foreign bed with no clothes on after having sex. 

Your best friend whom you were ripped apart from not hours earlier, and even as you encountered your worst nightmare in the form of Grant Ward and shed a tear for your past love, your heart furiously beat a steady pattern: 

_**fitz** \- fitz - **fitz** \- fitz - **fitz** \- fitz - **fitz** \- fitz - **fitz** \- fitz - **fitz** \- fitz - **fitz** \- fitz _

Your best friend who stared at you in your undercover ensemble a little too long when you opened the bathroom door in the hotel room that you two were currently occupying.

Your best friend whom you stared at in his undercover ensemble a little too long when you opened the bathroom door in the hotel room that you two were currently occupying.

Your best friend who kissed you with equal parts abandon and tenderness in his dimly lit bunk a day ago, and there was a promise with each kiss... each touch... each caress... 

_i want this - i want **you** \- we won’t let it - i’m right here - i’m ready for this - i’m ready for us - we’re together - it’s you - it’s you - it’s always **always** been you _

Your best friend who allowed you to reach for his hand after you shyly proclaimed your desire to see Daisy’s fourth dimension glimpse through. 

It was quite a strange feeling. 

To feel the electric pulses of attraction simply by holding one’s hand.

To feel safe and loved and steady simply from the firm grasp of his fingers.

Your best friend who held you for a solid minute as you both reeled from a teary goodbye to two people you will probably never see again.

Your best friend who didn’t even try to hide his amusement when you suggested you two start over back to where you began. 

**_Leopold Fitz. Engineering._ **

He still went along with it.

Your best friend who tiptoed around you for three months straight, afraid of stepping on pieces of your fractured heart. 

His politeness and sensitivity simply fractured it all the more.

Your best friend whom you gripped with a ferocity that shocked you both once you realized it was _**him** _ who survived the excursion to _Death._

Your best friend who embodied weariness, his pained expression revealing more than words ever could before you gripped him with a ferocity that shocked you both once you realized it was _**him** _ who survived the excursion to _Death._

Your best friend who tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear before softly stroking your cheek with his thumb while a piece of you wondered if you’d _ever.see. **him**.again._

Your best friend who stubbornly refused to listen to reason, admitting his selfish need to keep you alive whatever the cost. 

Even if the cost meant his own life in return.

Your best friend whom you kissed -- even as your heart was torn in two. 

Your kiss was deliberate and bittersweet and soft and **love** and _perfect._

Your best friend who surprised you with his impulsivity as he smashed his lips on yours, holding you fiercely. 

His kiss was desperate and messy and passionate and unexpected and _perfect._

Your best friend who approached you in the quiet stillness of the dawn, choosing to remain in the stalled relationship limbo you found yourselves in rather than disrupt the perfect moment that lay before you in the light of the sun.

Your best friend whom you watched wrestle a broken heart as he studied the monolith every free and waking moment he had in order to rescue your exiled boyfriend.

Your best friend who broke your heart every free and waking moment because you were finally finally **finally** in the same room with him and yet the distance between the two of you was infinite.

Your best friend who patiently, quietly sat while you confided in him everything that happened on the planet of despair, knowing it would change things between the two of you. 

Forever.

Your best friend who doted on you with a certain sort of thoughtfulness that made your heart laugh and scream and cry and cry and cry.

Your best friend who held you in his arms when your grief and guilt consumed you, and you couldn’t stop the tears, and still he sat with you, knowing the lovely date he went to great lengths to preserve and prepare was over in a matter of minutes. 

Still, he sat.

Your best friend whom you woke up with that first morning away from the place with no sun, and you had never felt more loved and safe, even as a piece of you longed for Will. 

Your best friend who fell asleep, sitting up, on the floor next to your bed because he refused to be ripped apart from you so soon after finding you. 

Your best friend whose physical presence lulled you into a sense of security and peace while the world spun madly around you and everything you had grown used to for six months was ripped cleanly away from you in an instant.

Your best friend who gripped your hand in his and didn’t let go and rescued you from Hell. 

Your best friend who called your name -- as if from an unfathomable dream -- and it _wasn’t_ a dream, and he had really done it and was frantically calling for you over and over and over....

Your best friend who dove through a hole in the universe for you.

Your best friend whom you never stopped thinking about the six months you lived in an entirely separate solar system from him. 

Your best friend whom you clung to with a certain kind of hope you had to harness deep within your bones. 

_Fitz will find a way._

Your best friend who filled you with a delicious sort of nervousness and excitement when he clumsily asked you to dinner. 

Your best friend whom you finally finally **finally** allowed to see your true feelings. 

Feelings for him.

Your best friend who became your best friend again, and things were almost perfect. 

Almost. 

Your best friend who wasn’t your best friend whom you realized you had feelings for while he alienated you and over and over again.

Your friend who even through the hurt and the pain and the fighting held you against him as the sky of rocks rained down on you in an underground city.

Your colleague who insisted on leaving you, dashing any hope you had of reconciliation.

Your estranged partner who couldn’t even look at you without disdain and hurt and demanded _you_ look anywhere else but where you really wanted to look. 

Your best friend who tried to put up a front when you reunited, closing off any sort of intimacy or vulnerability or closeness that might have occurred _before_.

Your best friend who wondered where you were every waking moment that wasn’t spent in resentment for your departure. 

Your best friend whom you missed every waking moment the two of you were apart. 

Your best friend who broke your heart again and again and again when he allowed frustration to get the better of him in his stalled recovery: 

His stalled recovery that your presence only exacerbated. 

Your best friend who was in a coma for nine of the longest days of your life while pieces of you wondered if he’d **ever.wake.up.**

Your best friend who -- in an act of true, gut-wrenching heroism -- handed you his heart before handing you the oxygen, prepared to die. 

Asking you to let him. 

The very thought of that was preposterous. 

Of course you wouldn’t let him.

Your best friend whom you watched with frustration and heartbreak defend Ward again and again until he finally understood the monster Ward was as you fell from the sky.

Your best friend whose feelings of betrayal resonated with you deeply, his eyes screaming the words he wouldn’t say aloud: 

i t ‘ s h a p p e n i n g a g a i n

p l e a s e j u s t l i e a n d t e l l m e y o u a n d s k y e w e r e w r o n g

i t c a n ‘ t b e w a r d

h e ‘ s n o t h i n g l i k e l i k e l i k e _h i m_

Your best friend whose arms you raced towards before another thought crossed your mind because he was alive and so was Hydra.

Your best friend who just _knew_ and wrapped you in his arms, holding you while you grieved for a sister you couldn’t imagine your life without. 

Your best friend who was planning on jumping out of a plane to save you from yourself.

Your best friend whose gutted expression and muted screams still haunts you occasionally as you surrendered to the wind and surrendered to the inevitable.

Your best friend who gave you hope when you had none left, working alongside you, insisting: 

there was a way - there was an option C - there was a cure

Your best friend whom you couldn’t imagine beginning this exciting, adventurous journey into mystery without.

Your best friend who laughed alongside you in a sort of light hopelessness of ever passing your field assessments. 

Your best friend who challenged you and made you better and became your trusted second pair of eyes. 

Your best friend who graduated the Academy early just like you did and was determined to remain your partner and best friend after graduation. 

Just like you were.

Your best friend who confided in you the pain he endured and the hurt he wrestled with and the hard lesson he learned again and again: 

**blood wasn’t always thicker than water, love wasn’t always a given in a family unit, and fathers weren’t always kind.**

Your best friend who became your best friend once he was assigned to you as a lab partner. 

Your lab partner who was assigned to you, and you bristled from the idea because you knew he hated you.

Your rival who tried to compete with you every chance he was given. 

Your achingly shy acquaintance who was quiet and pasty yet so incredibly smart and... 

... _handsome_.

Every encounter, every experiment, every moment shared, every word spoken, every argument, every movie night, every meal shared, every confession, every act of bravery, every moment of grief, every heartache, every every every every every every every _every **every**_

It all led here. 

In this foreign hotel room on this bed with your best friend who was so, so, _so_ much more than that and -- yet -- still your best friend in the whole world because that part would never, ever change, even as your relationship with him evolved more and more into something beautiful and wonderful and scary and magnificent. 

The culmination of every single part and moment and word shared between you and him rests with you two in the afterglow. 

You scoot closer to him, and he smiles, and you smile, and then he kisses you slow slow _slow_ \-- so different from the frenzied, sloppy, rushed kisses you two shared moments before -- as if he had all the time in the world to kiss you, and you revel in the unhurried bliss of it. 

Your lips still against each other, and he smiles against your lips, and you commit that smile to memory -- without quite realizing that’s what you’re doing -- and then you feel his smile against your cheek and your nose and your forehead and then, once you’re settled on his chest, your hairline. 

He starts playing with your hair with a tenderness that astounds you, and you start drawing patterns on his chest, and his hand finds yours, and he breaks the silence: 

“How do you feel?” 

“There aren’t enough words in the English dictionary to describe what I’m feeling right now.” 

You can hear the rumble and feel the slight tremors of his chest as he chuckles softly. 

“I know the feeling.” 

There is living, breathing, all-consuming passion and affection brewing, and you finally understand -- deep in your bones -- what it means and how it feels and why it’s called: 

**making**

**love**

-

At the risk of making this part longer than the fic itself, here is an extensive list of all the other fics written affiliated with this episode. Get comfortable. 

 **[As We Deviate from That Path](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6950593/chapters/17340403)** \- extensive play-by-play of crossing the event horizon (skipping over the very explicit parts -- that’s just for them) through Jemma’s POV

[ **Change Becomes Exponential** ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7667776/chapters/17482855)\- extensive play-by-play of crossing the event horizon through Fitz’s POV

 **[This Will Go On All Night](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7667776/chapters/17461177)** \- Mack’s POV of that entire night

 **[I’m Doom](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7667776/chapters/18390232)** \- Can’t forget Hive’s perspective and two cents! 

 **[No Lab Coats on This One](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7667776/chapters/18736612)** \- hidden moments before the mission is in full effect told through Fitz’s POV 

**Enjoy!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t even know where this came from. But it’s there. And I like how it turned out. I couldn’t wait until normal business hours to post. 
> 
> Thus concludes the #fsww challenge. Obviously, I did not keep within the given timeframe, but I’m still really happy I stayed the course. 
> 
> And now! To concentrate and get cracking on all the amazing prompts you guys have sent my way. Feel free to keep sending them. The more, the merrier!


	44. I Had My Eye on You Two

_"Agent Coulson?”_

_“Go for Coulson.”_

_“There’s a pair at our branch of the Academy who might pique your interest. It might do you some good to pop round and see for yourself.”_

_-_

The phone call from Weaver prompted Coulson’s visit to the Science and Technology division of S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy, and he eagerly anticipated the two prodigies she had informed him about. 

They did not disappoint. 

They were a marvelous duo, presenting their second year thesis project to the thirty or so professors and agents gathered in the auditorium.

He couldn’t believe they were only eighteen. 

There was a complexity to their presentation that was unmatched, and he had a hard time comprehending what was actually being said and demonstrated.

Which made him conclude that they’d be perfect pair to recruit. 

There was something else about them that stuck with him too. 

Their dynamic... their ease with one another... their unified presence... 

They reminded him of...

If he closed his eyes and jettisoned the accents and science talk and...

These two science geniuses reminded him so much of a young him and Melinda May, he knew they were something special. 

And he had to have them on his team.

He was too lost in thought to realize the presentation was over. 

_-_

“What is the meaning of this, Agent Coulson? I have a meeting I must attend.” 

Coulson shrugged, balancing the box on one hand and flopping open the lid with the other. 

“Just thought I’d leave these here,” he said smoothly. 

Weaver raised an eyebrow. “And why’s that?” 

“I just wanted to bring you something sweet. Like you.” 

Weaver simply stared at him in response. 

“And you were right. I’m highly impressed with FitzSimmons and want them on my team.” 

Weaver rolled her eyes. “There it is.” 

“I mean it, Professor. They’re phenomenal.” Coulson not-so-subtly flicked his eyes back and forth from her to the cupcakes. “And I hope this means we have an understanding.” 

Weaver put her hands on her hips. “If you think you can influence the future of my two brightest students by shameful bribery -” 

Coulson nodded. “I’ll just take these back then. Sorry to waste your time.” 

He turned to leave.

_One._

_Two._

“Leave the red velvet.” 

_YES._

“And the cappuccino.” 

Coulson spun back around. “You got it.” He took out both cupcakes and set them on her desk.

Weaver sighed in defeat. “I’ll see what I can do.” 

Coulson flashed her a winning grin. “You’re the best.” He set down a third cupcake. “I know everyone turns their nose at it, but you really should try the carrot cake too. It’s surprisingly exquisite.” 

Weaver waved him off, and he knew he was pushing it. 

He left her office - but not before sneakily taking one last peak. 

Weaver held the carrot cake one in her hand, and there was a piece of it missing. Her eyes were closed in satisfaction.

He grinned.

_-_

Check out [The Ones that Got Away ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7667776/chapters/20948345) that delves into the FitzSimmons collusion from Fitz’s point-of-view, [May as Well Have Packed My Bags Yourself](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6950593/chapters/16806595) where Jemma contemplates the new development of their relationship as she makes his sandwich, and [We Had the Better Hand ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7320274)a deleted scene of Trip and Fitz working on the 21st century Howling Commandos kit told from Trip’s point-of-view.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The cupcake story that had to be told. This is for @unlessimwrongwhichyouknowimnot whose url is longer than her own good. We both had this prompt idea (because great minds), and I hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> As I can you see, I’m open for business again for prompts. There are still many I’ve received that I haven’t forgotten. I promise!


	45. Why Did You Make Me Watch Paranormal Activity?

“Uh... Skye?” 

“Sorry,” she said sheepishly. She inhaled and exhaled slowly, trying to slow her heart rate down. 

The room stopped trembling.

For now, she was calm.

For now, she was in control. 

She whipped her head away from the screen with a small yelp. “Why aren’t you more freaked out from this?” 

Fitz shrugged easily. “Our run-in with Tobias on the Bus put things into perspective a bit. And also being dropped from the sky in a storage pod.” 

“I hear ya, Fitz, I do. But when --” Skye covered her eyes, and Fitz’s laptop began to shake again.

Fitz chuckled. “It does add a bit of a fourth dimension to the viewing experience.” 

“Glad I could oblige,” Skye muttered dryly. 

The tremors eventually stopped after a minute.

“Seriously, none of this bothers you?” 

“Like I said, Skye. All in --” 

“-- perspective. Yeah, got it.” Fitz stared at her a beat too long and then flicked his eyes back to the screen, but Skye knew better. 

She triggered something. 

There was only one person who finished his sentences like that. 

And neither of them were talking to her at the moment. 

Not out of -- they were talking to her, of course. 

Just not _talking_ to her. Sharing with her Skye’s most recent development. 

_Keep you safe until we figure it out._

Those were Fitz’s words. 

She hesitantly agreed to those words. To his plan. 

And was grateful to have someone in her corner. 

But she didn’t miss the look on his face when she finished his sentence. 

“Simmons didn’t want to to join in on the... fun?” 

Fitz scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, um. Only, I didn’t - I didn’t invite her.” 

“Not a scary movie fan?” Skye asked, hoping to keep things light. 

She knew the real reason why he didn’t invite her. 

So did he. 

But he went along with it anyway with a little, broken smile. “Definitely not.”

Skye thought about delving further about it, but then her heart stopped, and she shrieked, and Fitz’s entire bunk began to quake. 

“ _Skye_.” 

“Working on it,” Skye said through gritted teeth. 

Fitz looked back and forth from her and his laptop and then mumbled a quiet “okay” and tapped the space bar and closed his laptop. 

“Sorry, Fitz.” Skye apologized again. She was full of apologies these days. 

Fitz held up a hand. “My fault. Shouldn’t’ve suggested a horror film when you’re still figuring what you -- who you -- um. That is... “ 

“Yeah. I get it,” Skye sighed. 

She desperately wanted to change the subject to anything but _what_ she was. 

“So, you really don’t get scared from this stuff, do you?” 

Fitz scrunched up his nose. “I wouldn’t say that. I get plenty scared. In fact... “ Fitz trailed off, looking at her. 

And maybe it was a pity share. 

Maybe it was a vulnerable one. 

Maybe it was a combination of the two.

But she did not expect what Fitz said next. 

“I know it’s ridiculous, and statistically, I will most likely never be in danger from it, but... I have a paralyzing fear of clowns.”

“Clowns? Really, Fitz?” 

Fitz huffed. “Yes, really. Was flipping through the channels when I was ten and accidentally landed on _It_.” 

Skye shuddered. “Why didn’t you just turn the channel?” 

“The button was stuck. Finally just ran out of the room.” 

“Oh, Fitz.” 

“Yeah,” Fitz chuckled. “What’s the worst bit is my mum had tickets for us to see the circus a couple days after. A way to cheer me up after my...” Fitz frowned, seemingly lost in thought. 

There was a piece he wasn’t sharing. A piece she knew he didn’t want to share. 

And that was okay. 

So she gave him an out. 

“I take it your circus outing didn’t go as your mom expected?” 

Fitz shook his head with a small smile, and she could tell he was grateful for the question. “Not at all. In fact, I made so much of a fuss about leaving, she scolded me for acting like a brat.” 

Skye laughed at that, and Fitz’s smile grew, and she suspected he was happy that he could cheer her up a bit. 

“When I told Jemma that story...” Fitz continued. “She had never heard of _It_ , so I had her watch a scene from the movie, and she didn’t speak to me for three whole days afterward.” 

Fitz’s fond expression turned into a grimace. 

“Don’t you think you should talk to her, Fitz?” Skye prodded slowly.

“I already told you I don’t think it’s --” 

“I’m not talking about me.” 

Fitz nodded slowly in realization before setting his jaw.

“If you miss her, she needs to know.” 

“Who said that I -- I don’t -- she’s living on the Playground with us.” 

“Fitz, you said you hallucinated her.” 

Fitz whirled around to face her sharply. “Yeah. And I told you that in confidence.” 

Skye threw up her hands. “And your secret’s safe with me. Seriously. I’ve got way more to lose if you reveal mine.” 

Fitz leaned his head back against the foot of his bed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to... you know...” 

“Forget it.” 

“I just,” Fitz closed his eyes. “I just think I’d make things worse right now. With... with Simmons, I mean.” 

“Fitz, she clearly misses you too.” 

Fitz scoffed. “She misses the old me.” 

“ _No_.” Skye insisted fiercely. “She doesn’t.” 

“Sound pretty sure of yourself for someone who flinches from fake ghost stories.” 

Skye knew that was his way of telling her to drop the subject. 

“Yeah, ‘cuz it’s not like I suffer from the most _basic_ phobia in the world.” 

“Nice. You order a pumpkin spice latte _one_ time!”

Skye playfully poked his shoulder. He swatted at her a bit, but she still caught the smile he was trying to hide. 

“Fitz?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Thanks for not turning your back on me.” 

Fitz gave her a funny look. “I’d never do that.” 

Skye nodded furiously. “I know you wouldn’t. But thanks, all the same.” She tried to subtly wipe her eyes, but a few tears leaked out anyway. 

“Hey,’ Fitz said softly, turning towards her. “We’ll figure this all out, okay? And you’ll be just fine, Skye. I promise.” 

Skye swallowed and steeled her expression in resolve.

He was right. 

She’d be fine. 

She’d be fine. 

She’d be....

“Okay,” She said in a firmer tone than she felt.

... _fine_. 

-

Check out [I Would Never Hurt You ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6950593/chapters/16777543)where Jemma and Fitz have their first conversation that sets the path for mending their relationship.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for Tashonix who requested a backstory about Fitz’s fear of clowns, so of course I had to have Fitz tell it to Skye (and Tash) himself. Hope you liked! 
> 
> Hit me up with the prompts, yo. I have not forgotten any of the ones I’ve been given. I promise!


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